Sign Me Up
by Bilbo B. Swaggins
Summary: With the help of a smartphone app, Kairi finds the perfect partner for a one-night stand. Too bad this affair lasts much, much longer than one night.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I'm a basic bitch. I'll be the first to admit that. Or I would if I knew what a basic bitch actually was. Seriously, there are like a billion definitions online, some contradictory, some misogynistic (surprise), and some not so basic at all.

But if being a basic bitch means being an average, non-special girl who lives a mostly normal, non-special life, then I am Kairi, the most basic of bitches.

Except today.

Today, I'm extraordinary.

In the mirror, I see a girl with straight wine-red hair and perfectly done makeup staring at me. I smile. She does too. We both know that we look fantastic.

"You look fantastic, Kairi." Naminé, my roommate/best friend/on-demand makeup artist apparently agrees. She tosses my favorite pair of denim shorts onto my bed.

"Yes! Thank you." I slip into them quickly so I don't have to expose Naminé to my pants-less self. They're still warm from time in the dryer. With them, my ensemble is complete. I add a finishing touch by rolling up the sleeves of my pink plaid shirt.

God damn. Kairi. You're adorable.

"So what time's the date?" Naminé asks.

"Soon. And it's not a date, Nams. It's a meet-up," I say.

"Same thing. It's not like dates have to be romantic," she says.

"And yet yours always are."

"Kairi." Naminé gives me a look. It's the kind of look that says "Come on, Kairi. You know what I mean." You know that look. It's a slight head tilt, a pressed smiled that betrays an otherwise serious expression, and half-lidded eyes that dare to you to talk back. Bonus points are awarded to the person with glasses: she'd have the option to deliver a patronizing look over the top of her frames.

"I'm just teasing," I say soothingly. It's only to appease her though. I'm not wrong: Naminé has it all at the sweet and tender age of eighteen. Money, looks, a brain to match, a loving and supportive family, a boyfriend that she's been dating for like five years. And on top of all that, the most enviable fortune she has is a clear direction and life path that she determined for herself and wanted to follow.

That's important. There's a difference in knowing what you want and knowing how to get it. I, like most people, am still trying to figure out what I want. I know what I like, but I can't decide on something I really want. College in a nutshell, right?

Naminé figured out how to be an adult the moment we set foot on campus a few months ago.

I need to stop. I shouldn't be feeling envious about my best friend's seemingly perfect life right now. Besides, she just helped me out.

"Thanks for helping with my makeup, by the way," I say as I admire my face again. I really look like a different person, and right now that's doing wonders for my self-esteem, as temporary as it is.

Naminé, who is sitting behind me, meets my eyes through the mirror. "I had fun, so don't mention it."

I grab my shoes, appropriately named Chuck and Taylor—Chuck is the left and Taylor is the right—and slip them on.

"Need a ride?" Naminé asks as she walks behind me.

"No thanks. We're meeting somewhere midtown." Midtown was not quite downtown, but it was a bit safer. It was just south of campus, located across the southernmost street that ran along the edge of the main campus property, so it was easy to commute via public transportation. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"No. I'll probably spend the night at Roxas's. After I drop you off, of course," she adds nonchalantly.

"No you're not. I'm not taking you from your boyfriend. You should gather your things and I will just…" I trail off to gather my phone, keys, and wristlet. I need to leave before—

"I'm taking you, Kai—don't you dare run out that door!" she yells. Too late. I jet down the stairs, laughing as I hear Naminé calling after me. She chases me all the way to the parking lot of our apartment complex. I guess she _really_ wanted to give me a ride.

Namine never comes close to catching me. I slow down, both out of knowing I'll never be caught and out of pity, and remember that my best friend actually does have a flaw.

The poor girl does not have an athletic bone in her body.

I, on the other hand, am less than half a year removed from being a cross country captain of a district-winning track and field team.

Go Gullwings.

The chase ends in about forty-five seconds.

"Kairi, you better stop running right now!" Naminé demands, already out of breath. "I will chase you until you're dripping in sweat if I have to!"

I stop. It's something she totally would do if she could without dying first. Out of consideration for my best friend's heart, I give up.

"Why can't you just let me take the tram?" I whine. She had a good point though. Ruining my appearance with sweaty armpits and wind-tossed hair is the last thing I want to do.

"Because I want to. Now, you're going to go back to the apartment and lock our door. I"—Naminé pauses to fill her lungs with air—"am going to wait in the car, and from there we will leave. No running, just driving."

"Fine." I make my way back to the apartment, walking slower than usual just to spite her until I remember that _I'm_ the one that needs to be somewhere. My revenge tour to the apartment and back to the car becomes a walk of shame.

That's what I get for trying to run from a favor.

* * *

Naminé doesn't know that Sora, the guy I'm about to meet in person, is one of the people I've been talking to on Mingler.

Mingler is an app by the tech giant Moogle. You fill out a short profile, add a few pictures, and then submit your location and interests. The app then matches you with people you may be interested. I'm sure the algorithm takes into account one's age, location, likes, dislikes, and that weird questionnaire that included questions like "What is your spirit animal?" and "If you were a bell pepper, which color would you be?" that seemed totally arbitrary and made no sense.

Mingler is meant to allow the user to find and chat with people with similar interests. For most people, including myself, it's used to sometimes find a casual sex partner.

Yes, Kairi the basic bitch likes to explore her options. But god forbid a girl actually enjoys having sex with different people. The shit people say sometimes is infuriating.

Years of being shamed conditioned me to keep quiet about my sexual habits. I'd like to say I was strong enough to brush everyone's insults, but I'm not immune to getting hurt. I have feelings, and as harmless as words may seem, they leave scars and change you in ways that are hard to perceive. Maybe you're less vocal about who you like because the girls will secretly talk about it. Maybe you find it harder to trust guys who may or may not have a genuine interest in you. Maybe you wonder why you're so different and why people don't like that. Or maybe you're put through so much shit that you can't help but allow those terrible words, those vitriolic labels and blistering criticisms, to define you.

It's the reason why I can't tell even my best friend the truth behind this little rendezvous. As much as I trust Naminé, I'm haunted by the thought that she'll think less of me if she knew that I truly slept with more than three different guys already. I mean, the rest of the world thinks I'm disgusting. I wouldn't blame her if she was conditioned to think the same.

I know that Naminé only offered to give me a ride to see the guy I was meeting. It's pretty evident thanks to the car ride interview. To spice things up, and perhaps to defend myself, I decide to turn it into a game and alternate between telling the truth and a lie.

"So how long have you been talking?" she asks.

"About a month," I say, starting off with a lie. I don't even remember Sora's last name. To my credit, we've only been talking for about a day and a half.

"And you're just meeting now?" There's a slight hitch in Naminé's voice as she briefly looks at me in disbelief.

"Yup." Well that was easy. That's the truth, after all.

"How'd you two start talking anyway?"

"Oh, I think we commented on the same topic in an online course. Nothing to start a conversation like agreeing over a controversial issue, right?" That's a lie. It's so far down the lying spectrum that I almost laugh.

Real talk: Mingler presents you with profile after profile after profile of guys—or girls—in your area. You have the option to either pass on them or indicate that you're interested. If they indicate that they're interested in talking to you, then you're matched up and a small chat opens up. Why did I start talking to Sora? Because he looked pretty cute in his profile picture. He was pretty hot if the picture was actually him. I'm sure he got a lot of matches.

Why did I keep talking to him? Because he was hilarious. I don't think I've ever enjoyed talking with someone that much before. We texted for about four hours straight last night, and that had a lot to do with our decision to meet up today.

"Is he here already?" Naminé cranes her neck to scan the restaurant window. I want to tell her that she has no idea who she's looking for, but I'd rather she just leave.

"No, he's not," I lie as I step out of the car. Truth be told, I have no idea whether or not he's here. We agreed on a time, and if he stands me up, then I just move on with my life. "Move along, Mom. This ain't the middle school formal."

Naminé laughs and shakes her head. "If things go well, you better introduce me. I'll see you later."

I wait until Naminé disappears down the road before I start walking to the bar where Sora and I are actually supposed to meet.

Oh yes. I go to great lengths to hide my secrets.

The sun, like it does for at least six hours a day, tints the world orange. Twilight Town, unlike anywhere else, witnesses the longest twilight period in the world. Go figure, right? It's pretty amazing, but definitely a little disorienting at first. When I first started out here at TTU, the sun began to set around three in the afternoon and I felt ready to go to bed by eight. Things were different on Destiny Islands where I grew up. I could tell the time based on the brightness of the sky and the position of the sun. Here, I had to get a watch.

I check said watch and quicken my pace. It's nearly 5:30 PM, our scheduled meeting time. I have Sora's number, but I'm reluctant to call it. I've never actually hooked up with someone like this—I always met guys at parties and social outings—so I don't know the proper etiquette. If you're meeting with someone, do you ask them if they're waiting for you? I don't know if that's rude or not. What if he isn't waiting for me and I send that text? Will he feel rushed or think I'm clingy or something?

I don't know, so I just keep walking. If he's there, he's there. If he isn't, I take the tram back home and trade Chuck and Taylor for the Dairy Queen. She and I will have a grand old time as we eat ice cream, watch reruns of _Survival of the Cutest_, and cry because I'm not getting any.

It's been a long time, okay?

Now that I think about it, Sora never really made it clear that he was willing to sleep with me. We flirted, I think, and I dropped tons of hints that I planned on going home with him, but you never know with guys. Well, even if he missed all the hints, I'll make it pretty clear if things go well. I did _not_ spend all this time on my appearance so that I could go home alone. People need to see me right now because I look fantastic, and I don't know when this will happen again because my hair and skin really got their shit together today and I don't think I'll be able to handle it if I go home without someone, _anyone_, noticing how cute I look today.

I have a problem.

If anyone's to blame, it's Tinkerbell. She's my true spirit animal, and I model my life after her.

But come on! I got a wax so the Queen could stay in her freezer and Chuck and Taylor could wait at the door. I'm too invested for this to fail.

I enter a bar called _The Keyhole_ (pick-up lines and puns regarding the namesake are strictly forbidden and the bar owner reserves the right to throw out anyone who violates this rule) and scan the crowd. There are two floors to this bar, and the first floor is ridiculously crowded. Happy hour started half an hour ago, and since most upperclassmen finish on Thursdays, The Keyhole is filled with more patrons than it can handle.

We didn't plan this meeting very well.

I think the Keyhole used to be a low-key bar. The wooden furnishing and glossy tabletops make it seem more fitting for a jazz bar. I mean, there are still a few frames featuring the most famous jazz artists and artwork that share titles with some well-known, crowd-pleasing tunes. I guess the target demographic shifted at one point. Today the speakers play the Top 40, and a couple students from one of the frats are cheering on a battle between two pledges who look like they're on the fast track to getting smashed. The track, in case it isn't obvious, is a line of ten shots. Someone better carry those two out at the end of the evening.

Most of the tables along the other edge are taken, and Sora's nowhere in sight. There's still some searching to do, so I walk through the entrance and plan accordingly.

In the middle of the establishment and left of the circular bar (I'm convinced that the raised platform the bartenders stand on used to be for a grand piano) is a spiral staircase. I square my shoulders. I read somewhere that walking with an air of confidence will make crowds part for you, so I tilt my chin a little higher, take a deep breath and walk through the crowd and

OHMYGODIT'SWORKING.

I manage to maintain a calm appearance as I walk upstairs, keeping my hand close to the railing. I notice that eye contact makes the people going down my side move over. This is great. I may have woken up late this morning, but I knew today was going to awesome the moment I plugged in my flashdrive on the first try.

The music up here isn't as loud as it was downstairs. The spiral staircase continues upward, but I step onto the second floor and look around.

Sora's here. He sits at a high table, one leg on the floor and the other on the lowest rung of the barstool. He's looking at something outside.

I stand there and gawk. He looks nothing like he did in his picture.

He is way hotter.

Like, way _way_ hotter.

Son of a bitch. What did I get myself into?

He turns before I even attempt to grab his attention. He smiles when his eyes land on me.

I die.

The end.

"Hey there," Sora greets as he approaches, pulling me back from the grave. His voice sounds boyish, like it's younger than the rest of his body. "You look like a girl I know."

I focus just enough to greet him. "And you look like a guy I know," I say. I don't really know how I'm supposed to greet him, so I make the smooth move of going in for a hug. He rolls with it, and oh my goodness does he smell fantastic. He smells like man. Like, the stereotypical man scent that all men's products seem to use. It's a hard smell to mess up.

I sniff him like he's a line of coke.

"You feeling under the weather?" Sora laughs as he pulls back. "I won't be mad if you'd rather be home right now."

Please. The only home I'm going to is yours.

(I'd say that if the badass in my head and the girl I actually was were the same person.)

"No, it's just allergies. Really," I say. "I see you've got a table for us. Have you been waiting long?"

"I got here fifteen minutes ago, but don't even worry about it," Sora says as he leads us back to the table. "Could've been another hour and it still would've been worth the wait," he adds as he scratched the back of his head.

Well bend me over and do me doggy.

I imagined when Sora was flirting with me through text, he was doing it with a confidence that only good-looking guys had—the kind of confidence that bordered cockiness. But this… this earnest, shy attempt at flirtation was a million times better. Clearly I won at Mingler. And no, Mingler is not a competitive game, but I definitely won.

"Oh stop it," I say. "I know you've been chatting with other girls the entire time you've been waiting."

"You caught me, but it's probably not what you think. You talking with anyone on it right now?" Sora slides me a menu and rests his elbows on the table.

"You're the only one. To be fair, you're the only normal and nice one. Everyone else is either really creepy or an amateur comedian. Not that there's anything wrong with the latter. I enjoy a good laugh," I say.

"As opposed to hating a good laugh?" Sora asks.

I shake my head. We had a whole conversation revolving around how generic some of the profiles were last night. Surprisingly enough, neither of us found someone who hated fun, laughter, and a good time. You don't say.

I cover my face and sigh dramatically. "Oh no. I'm just like the rest of them."

"No you're not. You're like"—Sora holds his thumb and pointer finger millimeters apart—"this much better than they are."

"There's the compliment I've been fishing for," I say. The muscles in my cheeks begin to burn, and I realize it's because I've been smiling the entire time. "So who have you been chatting with?"

"I haven't really been using Mingler since we started talking," Sora starts. The waitress interrupts to give us each a glass of water and to take our orders. He continues, "I don't think my situation can possibly get any better anyway."

Oh. Oh fuck this guy. He's got the embarrassed schoolboy act going, but he knows exactly what he's doing and he knows exactly what he wants to say next.

I hate that it's working.

There's a brief lull in our conversation. I shamelessly take in the sight of him. He's wearing a classic combination of jeans and a white V-neck t-shirt, and silver chain with a crown at the end hangs around his neck. It's the perfect accessory item to his otherwise plain ensemble. Don't get me wrong: he wears it very well. Everything fits and the clothes hug him in all the right places.

I clear my throat. "So what have you been doing on it?"

Sora takes out his phone and loads the app. "See for yourself," he says.

I read the most recent chat.

_Cute But Generic Girl 1: Whats ur most intimate sex fantasy? Ill tell u mine if u tell me urs ;)_

_Sora: I've always wanted to make love with arms._

_Cute But Generic Girl 1: Wat_

_Sora: With arms._

_Sora: I don't have arms._

_Sora: So coffee?_

I laugh. "Oh my gosh. You're one of those people."

"I'm sure they're very nice girls, but none of them really get my sense of humor," he says. "And some are just flat out mean."

He reaches across the table and opens another chat window. I read the contents:

_Cute Girl 2: Hey, are you the guy on the right or left?_

_Sora: I'm on the right._

_Cute Girl 2: Oh. Never mind then._

My mouth drops open. "That is too funny," I say. Sora's profile picture on Mingler features him and another guy, one with silver hair and aquamarine eyes, from the fat angle. Basically, Sora and his friend are sporting double chins. I figure most girls look through his other pictures because there's another picture with the same guy. They're posing normally with the view of Twilight Town behind them.

This girl thinks Sora's friend is hotter than he is? I'd say something is wrong with her, but that just means less competition for me.

"So is this your first time meeting someone in person?" Sora asks.

I return his phone and take mine out. "You wouldn't meet with any of these people, would you?"

Sora looks through the attempted chats that I never responded to.

"What the hell? Why are there so many… I don't know, creeps?" he asks.

"Welcome to being a woman," I say, sipping some of my water.

"Mind if I talk to these guys?" There's a mischievous glint in his eye that makes me want to say yes, if only to see what happens next.

"As me or you?" I ask.

"Obviously you."

Screw it. "Why not?"

* * *

_Sleazy Guy: Hey Pretty Lady Where Can I Pick You Up?_

_Me: Exit 39 on the interstate._

_Me: I just ran over a deer_

_Me: I need a ride home_

_Me: pls respond_

_Me: pls_

_Douchebag: We should fuck sometime._

_Me: You ever make love to a man?_

_Douchebag: No_

_Me: So you want to?_

_Me: Hello?_

_Scumbag: Show me ur pussy!_

_Me: ^.^_

_Scumbag: ur real pussy_

_Me: =^.^=_

_Scumbag: fuk u_

_Me: meow_

"Okay, I'm stopping there," Sora says as he puts my phone down. "I could do that shit all day."

I shake my head. We did not just spend the past hour harassing these guys. I look at my watch.

We did.

There's a plate of nachos between us that we've been munching on the entire time. When the waitress comes around again, we order drinks. Real drinks this time. Water isn't cutting it.

"How old are you?" Sora asks, eying my fake ID with a smirk.

"21 as of four months ago, for all intents and purposes," I say. "Call me Aqua until after we've gotten our drinks."

Sora laughs. "Well, I think Aqua should come over here and take a picture with Terra to commemorate this momentous meeting."

I roll my eyes and walk over to Sora. He holds his phone out with one arm and wraps the other around my waist, pulling me closer. I oblige and wrap my arms around his neck. He snaps a picture, but doesn't let go.

"Hold on. I'm pretty sure that one was blurry." He takes another. And another. And another.

I catch on and play along. We take about twenty more selfies before we part, giggling like we've just pulled off some great historical heist.

"I think we just documented two people slipping into insanity," Sora says. He briefly examines each photo, swiping every few seconds. "We look good together too."

"Are we ugly when we're not?" I ask. My margarita is placed in front of me and I start on it immediately. Delicious.

"I was going to say that I was dragging you down, but if you want to be pessimistic like that, you can have it your way," Sora says. He sips his beer and grimaces. "Ugh. I don't know why I ordered this. I don't really like drinking, so I'm going to blame you for pressuring me."

"I'm not falling for your modesty act," I say. "You are way hotter in real life than you are in your picture."

I catch Sora off-guard with that one. Since silence isn't exactly the response I was looking for, I start chugging my margarita so that I'll forget this ever happened in an hour.

"Yeah, I'm at a loss," Sora finally says. "Do you want this? I'm not going to drink it." He slides the beer over.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Sora?" I sigh. I'm already halfway through my margarita, and if he calls me out for blushing, I've already decided that I'm blaming the alcohol.

He takes his beer back and finishes it in ten seconds. "No way. You can't possibly be any more fun than you are when you're sober."

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. "In that brief moment of silence, _that_ was the best you could come up with?"

Sora laughs. "Yeah, that did not play out as I had imagined at all. I just find it hard to think when there's a gorgeous girl sitting in front of me."

I can't help it. I laugh too. We become the loud and obnoxious pair at the bar, and only when we receive a few dirty looks do we manage to tone it down.

"Was that Plan B all along?" I ask him.

"Kairi, that was Plan C. I forgot Plan A when you dropped your bomb, and we just watched Plan B get butchered just now," Sora says. He takes out his wallet and doesn't let me protest. "I'm at my limit. I'm taking you home, right?"

"If you're willing to do me another favor, then yeah. Need directions?"

A huge smile spread across his face. "No thanks. I know how to get to my apartment."

Well fuck me.

No, seriously. This is happening.

I bite my lip and shake my head. "That one worked out, didn't it?" I ask, linking my arm with his.

He nods and leads us toward the stairs.

"You have no idea," he says. "I practiced that one so many times this morning."

* * *

"So do you have a car?" I ask as we leave the bar. The damn sun is still setting, stuck in that seemingly perpetual state of twilight. Well, at least it's a sign that we've got the whole night ahead of us.

"Nope. But I have that," Sora says, pointing to a silver Vespa parked with other scooters and motorcycles.

"You're serious?"

"I'm serious."

We get on. I don't tell him that I've never been on a Vespa or that I'm a little nervous. He managed to get here safely, so I figure he'll be fine getting us back to his place.

Sora turns his head just enough to make eye contact. "Hold on tight."

I wrap my arms around his waist and slip my hands up his shirt, my fingers spreading over his abdomen. I feel his muscles tighten.

"Are you seriously flexing right now?" I giggle and bury my face in his back. He still smells like manly cologne, and manly cologne smells fantastic. Sora, therefore, still smells fantastic.

"Can you blame me? I'm a little wound up," he says.

* * *

When we turn into his apartment complex, I unbutton his jeans to get a head start.

* * *

Is a hot guy still hot if he has beer breath?

Abso-fucking-lutely. In fact, it's kinda turning me on.

As soon as we cross the threshold of his apartment, Sora and I are on the floor, clumsily trying to kiss each other as we tear at each other's clothes. The shirts go first. And even though I've been trying to shove his jeans off since we got off the Vespa, he beats me to the punch and tosses my shorts aside. He hovers above me, high enough to keep most of his weight off me, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

I battle the urge to submit to his kisses, and with a great deal of effort, I finally get his pants off. Without a task to focus on, my hands are roaming over every possible surface in my reach.

I feel his hand sliding up my back. His fingers find the clasp of my bra, and with one pinch, it comes undone. He pulls it down my arms, and I'm forced to lift my hands from his skin to throw it away. The advantage swings in his favor, and I almost lose myself as he kisses a trail downward: he's at my lips, my chin, my neck. Before he can go any further, my hand slips past the waistband of his boxers.

He shudders. I decide I like the sound of his groan too, and I make it my personal mission to earn that result as many times as possible while I'm here.

"_Please_ tell me you have protection," I say. It's hard to focus on words while I stare at his bare chest. God damn. I hit the jackpot.

"It's in my room."

And in a display of absolute willpower, Sora and I make it to his room.

* * *

**Would you like to read more?**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I wake up in someone else's bed. The ceiling fan hums in the darkness, keeping me cool against the warm body wrapped around me. I close my eyes again and gather my memories.

Sora's the one beside me. His arms hold me so close that my back is pressed against his chest, moving me slightly with every slow breath. I realize this is the most comfortable I've ever been in a long time.

Ah shit.

_Don't kid yourself, Kairi_.

I roll out of his arms, gracelessly falling on the floor. The noise stirs him.

"No, don't go," he says. He's not quite awake. "I'll make you pancakes."

"I'm just using the bathroom," I reply quietly. He's asleep before I finish my sentence. After finding my underwear on the floor, I stumble toward the bathroom, grateful that it's connected to his room. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the light. I squint and avoid looking into the mirror. I probably look hideous.

Mustering my courage, I raise my eyes to the mirror, and after my eyes adjust to the light, I'm surprised I don't look worse than a pile of horse shit. Sure, my hair's a total mess, and let's not get started on the make-up I didn't clean off last night, but it could've been a lot worse. I cover my chest and feel like laughing. I don't feel clean, but that has more to do with the fact that I fell asleep naked rather than the one-night stand I just had.

I shouldn't have stayed over. I always leave after the guy falls asleep, or I wait until the middle of the night to get up and get out. Sora kept me around a little longer than planned—not that I was totally opposed. After the first time, I stuck around for Round 2. And 3.

I bite my lip. The memories of last night are fresh in my mind, and damn are they amazing. Sora was good at listening to directions—whether or not that skill applied outside the bedroom has yet to be seen—and that's pretty much why I'm still at his place. I turn to the window and pull down one of the blinds. The sky is a dark blue, and sunrise is probably less than an hour away. I need to leave.

After freshening up a bit, I pass through Sora's room and collect my clothes. I remember my cell phone is somewhere in Sora's room, so I double back and pat around the floor. No luck. Only one other place it could be: I slip my hand under one of the pillows at the head of the bed, and my fingers brush the plastic case of my phone. I check it immediately.

No missed calls. No text messages. 5:41 AM.

I have no friends.

"Kairi? Come back to bed. I'll make you pancakes," Sora says, each word slowed by drowsiness.

I shake my head and bite the corner of my lip. "You can't make pancakes from the bed, Sora."

"Not with that attitude," he says. Even when he's not fully awake he's a smartass.

I kneel at the side of the bed and rest my chin on the mattress. His sheets are so soft, and I can feel them calling my name. It'd be so easy to get back into bed. I can return to the illusion and pretend that I don't have to leave, that I can allow myself to stay in Sora's arms until noon and stick around to see what all the pancake hype is all about.

I wonder if that's what Naminé gets to experience every morning with her boyfriend. Probably not. I know it's just a fantasy. There's a short honeymoon phase, and then it just turns into two people looking for reasons to stay together, ways to maintain the façade of a happy relationship. Not necessarily for people like Naminé, but for girls like me with little to offer except a great time in bed. Guys get tired of that eventually.

Whatever. Committed relationships aren't for me anyway. Not the real kind, at least. As fantastic as my time with Sora has been, he's not my boyfriend.

I stand up, ready to embark on my journey back to my apartment. I'd call it a Walk of Shame, but I'm walking away from the best night of sex in my life. It's going to be a Walk of Pride, if anything. Like that's right, person-who-stares-at-me-as-I-walk-by. I just got laid, and it's definitely something you should be jealous about.

I open the door. A blast of cold morning wind greets me, so I step back into the apartment.

Yeah, no. It is _freezing_.

I check the temperature on my phone and curse. Of course it was going to get cold eventually. It was late Fall in Twilight Town, and the warm weather yesterday was the exception to the norm. I should have checked the weather before I left. I mean, I knew I'd have to leave in the morning if I went home with Sora, so I should've been prepared. Damn it, Kairi. That's what you get for being too eager.

There's a coat closet near the front door, so I help myself to one of Sora's hoodies hanging in there. I'm pretty sure this counts as theft since I have no intention of returning it or seeing Sora again. If I do see him on campus, and if I happen to have it with me, then he'll get it back.

The hoodie is like the ones sold in the university shop in the student union building. I didn't peg Sora as someone with a lot of school spirit, but maybe he bought it because it's actually some high-quality merchandise. I put it on. It smells like his bed—it's probably one he wears often. When I step outside, I understand why. This thing is warm. With no way to lock Sora's door, I close it and hope for the best.

The sky is brighter than it was the last time I checked. It'd only be a matter of time before the more serious students and the ones with morning classes wake up, so I gradually speed up into a jog and head home.

* * *

My morning breaks the monotony of my college life so far. Some highlights:

Start off with a morning jog in the cold.

Get home and shower, only to fall asleep as soon as I get out.

Wake up half an hour before noon to seven text messages from Naminé asking if I was okay and where I was and why I wasn't in our only class together. Oh, and to bring her lunch in the fridge that she forgot to pack. Genuine concern right there.

Skip my next class because I'd arrive maybe three minutes late, which is just as bad as missing the entire class, so it's better to cut my losses and spend that class time doing other things.

Spend that time in the union food court drinking my coffee while replaying the events of the previous night in my head.

I feel different today. I mean, I felt different yesterday too, but that was because I looked fabulous. I think I'm just at peace with myself. Like, I'm pretty sure there's a huge pimple about to form hear my hairline over my left eyebrow, but that's okay because maybe that won't happen, and even if it does it'll eventually go away.

But seriously. I feel good. Heck, I almost broke routine and ordered a Sea-salt &amp; Caramel hot chocolate, and I even considered getting a hazelnut macchiato and I don't even know what that is. So I told myself, "Kairi, you're basic. Ain't nothing wrong with that." And then I ordered a coffee with cream and sugar.

I think I might be experiencing a post-sex high of some sorts. You know how people say, "You need to get laid" to a really grumpy person? I think I know why. I mean, right now everything is just great. The semester is ending, the cold weather has arrived (and I've been dying to whip out my winter clothes), and I got to skip my Friday classes. I'm sure that'll bite me in the ass later, but right now, life is great.

"Someone's skipping class, I see."

Roxas, Naminé's boyfriend, takes a seat across from me. Roxas and I have a very interesting relationship, and sometimes I get the impression that he hates me. It might just be his personality though. He's one of _those_ guys: pretends to be indifferent, devoid of strong emotions, unwavering and always unfazed. Obviously he is none of those things—he's dating Naminé, who surrounds herself with intelligent and extraordinary people much like myself—so I like to give him shit for it in the "I see right through your façade" kind of way. In fairness, I think he sees right through me too.

More importantly, Roxas dresses nicely and today isn't an exception. My grandma would probably say something obnoxious like "He looks like a homosexual" because in her mind, all the gays and only the gays have a great fashion sense, but Roxas just knows what looks good on him.

"I was going to be late anyway," I say. I pull out a salad container from my bag and slide it over to him. I know it's his: his Fridays are pretty shitty since he has a lab on top of classes, so Naminé always makes him lunch in the one break he has in his seven-hour day.

"I wish I could skip," Roxas says. He takes off his jacket, and his cardigan/oxford combo makes him look like he was pulled out of a fashion magazine. Huh. Fashionable and practical. "But I unfortunately don't have that luxury."

I want to ask him whether or not he'll be dealing with corrosive chemicals in his biology lab because it'd be a real shame if anything happened to his trendy clothes, but I don't. Plus, I'm not sure if he just took a jab at me or not, so I don't think it warrants a response.

Roxas silently eats his salad. I like that about him: he doesn't feel the need to make small talk, as if his words and his speech were at a premium. Pretty efficient. I try listening to him and Naminé when they're together in her room—not that I've ever heard anything. Individually, they're both quiet people, so I imagine there's either a lot of staring or really quiet sex. Maybe they're noisier when they know they're alone. Or maybe they just whisper to each other behind closed doors.

By the time Naminé arrives, Roxas is already done eating his salad.

"Ugh. That was the salad, wasn't it? There goes my dinner," Naminé says as she puts her backpack down. "Wait here. I'm getting you something else." She's off before we can get a word in.

"I guess I brought the wrong container." I shrug.

"Surprise." He sounds like a dick, but he cracks a smile to let me know he's kidding. "That wasn't enough food for a dinner anyway. We'll be eating out tonight."

"Oh, I bet you will."

He rolls his eyes.

Am I jealous? Of course I am. Naminé gets free food—one of many boyfriend perks. Roxas makes me miss them because he reminds me that they exist, but then I remember that even when I had a boyfriend, those perks were few and far between. Roxas is one to follow his word, and Naminé is lucky to have him, but I'd pick my selfish, drama-free single life over the occasional free dinner any day.

"Here. You'll be here for a while, so eat up," Naminé says as she places a meal in front of Roxas.

"Fast food? That completely ruins the point of eating that salad," Roxas says. He smiles so easily around her.

"Let's pretend they cancel each other out," Naminé says. She turns to me. "So that date must have gone very well for you to sleep in so much."

Roxas raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything. I don't think he knew that I went out. That, or he was going to make another comment about how much I'm slacking near the end of the term. Either way, I'm glad he stayed quiet.

"It went very well. I was out pretty late," I say. She doesn't have to know about my Jog of Pride this morning.

Naminé beams and leans forward over the table. "So when's the next one?"

"Oh, there won't be one." I sip my coffee and smile. "Neither of us is looking for a relationship right now. It was a fun outing, but… you know."

Naminé's itching to ask why; I can tell by the way her expression changes three times in a second. She doesn't pry, so her boyfriend asks for her. "I don't. Could you explain it to me?" Roxas asks.

"I don't think either of us is fit for a committed relationship, is all," I say. I stand up, trying to think up a reason to leave. "I'm gonna head out. I have a meeting with a professor on the other side of campus."

"Don't let us keep you." Roxas sips his soda. "See you later, Kairi. And nice sweater—very school-spirity."

I smile and shuffle out of the student union. Am I wearing Sora's hoodie? Yes, but only because it's so comfortable and warm. And it smells good.

Since I don't have any reason to be on campus, I decide to walk around. Even though the sun's out, the cold air bites every inch of my exposed skin when I walk in the shade of a building or one of the many trees on campus. I raise my coffee to my lips and watch my breath disappear in a wisp.

Coffee on a cold day is incredible.

I make my way to the outdoor amphitheater on campus. There's an elaborate fountain in the pond the amphitheater overlooks, and the steps and seats are covered in this amazingly soft, manicured grass that put most office chairs to shame. It only takes me a few minutes to reach it. It's a little crowded—apparently I'm not the only one who thought this was the perfect place to experience the weather—but I find a private spot without having to descend to stage level.

The sun's coming on pretty strong, but a constant breeze keeps the skin on my face cool. I roll up the sleeves of my borrowed hoodie and lie on my side in the grass, propping my head up with my hand. There's a group of students below me. Half of them are wearing shirts that advertise a college production of _Shakespeare in the Park_. One of them mentions Rosalind, and I smile when I recognize it's a rehearsal of _As You Like It, _a play popularized by the Seven Ages of Man monologue—"All the world's a stage" and all that jazz.

Maybe I'll watch it. If I don't find a Mingler date tonight, at least I'll be able to enjoy _Shakespeare in the_ _Park_. At night. In the cold.

Hmm.

I open Mingler on my phone and start reading a few messages from the people who matched with me. There's another handful of creepy ones, but I don't reply. It's not as fun if you can't make fun of them with someone else. No one's really catching my eyes. There's a few douchey-looking guys flaunting their six-packs in the douchiest shirtless pics possible. No. I don't want no scrubs. Pass on those. There's some average-looking guys, and while I'm sure some are nice (and the others are probably the punks that complain about being friend-zoned because their lady friends won't sleep with them), I'm not a nice girl. I'm vapid and superficial and need to be stimulated in every way possible. If I'm having sex with a guy, I better like the way he looks, and none of these guys are making the cut. Besides, I'm sure there's a better girl for them out there. Pass on them too.

After five minutes of sifting through every prospect—and finding none that I like— I decide that something needs to change. There are too many creeps and douchebags and, sorry, ugly people.

It's partially my fault. I indicated that I was interested in them, and since they did the same, we matched. And even though I said I was interested, I'm really not. My all-encompassing acceptance of every profile is merely a method of finding guys I might actually like by increasing the amount of guys I come across.

Let's take that one metaphor, the one about "plenty of fish in the sea" that people like to say to their friends when their friend is going through a terrible breakup, even though that phrase does not comfort anyone but the speaker, who feels like they're helping by saying "there's plenty of guys out there who also don't want you."

I digress. Getting back to the metaphor, you have two options in catching all those fish in the sea: you can use a fishing rod with quality bait and maybe get a bite from that really rare fish, or you could use a trawl net and sweep through the ocean, catching a ton of fish and keeping the ones you like. And since you're aware that overfishing is a serious problem, and other fisherwomen also need fish, so you throw back the rest because you're that good and that nice of a person.

Anyway, no more of that. Nobody knows what I'm talking about anyway. Point is I need to be more selective.

Being selective, however, is easier said than done. If I haven't mentioned before, Mingler only matches you with people in your area. The cool thing about it is that you can meet up with anyone you talk to. The scary part about it is that Mingler knows where you live, and the wrong kind of person can probably find you if he or she really sets his or her mind on it. I don't swipe (that's how it's done: you either swipe their profile aside or tap twice to say you're interested, which is kind of a virtual way of saying "I'd tap that," so that's pretty cool, right?) past many people before I start tapping what I'd consider second-tier people.

And yes, I tier my potential dates. The first tier houses all the guys who are hot, fun to talk to, and hopefully DTF. Sora was obviously first tier. In fact, there's probably a tier higher than first that he belongs to: the one-in-a-billion find that I'll never experience again.

The second tier guys were people I wouldn't mind flirting with, but I probably wouldn't sleep with them. I have standards.

I continue swiping. I must have passed up forty or so people before finding someone who looked promising—someone named Riku. I read the first line of his profile and groan.

_Here to chat only. Message if you'd like to talk._

Well that's just stupid. This guy's beautiful—he has to know that there are girls like me who'd love to show him how idiotic those words on his profile are. I stare at his picture for a while. I'd _like_ to see this guy under me, and he's a guy, so maybe with enough coaxing he'll change his mind. Then again, that's pretty sleazy of me: I'd hate it if a guy only talked to me because he wanted to sleep with me (assuming, of course, he's not pretty like Sora was).

Ah, screw it. I double tap his profile. If he doesn't change his mind, I get to talk to a hot guy. If he does change his mind, I get to talk to a hot guy and fuck him. Sounds like a win-win to me.

I swipe through a number of guys, growing more impatient with the long string of crappy profiles. I'm starting to remember why I tapped everyone before: there's maybe one good profile for every fifty shitty ones, and of the good ones, the guy is attractive maybe once every one hundred.

I should've gone to a different school.

No, that's mean. There are plenty of good-looking guys, but they aren't nice-looking. And there are plenty of nice-looking guys, but they're not necessarily good-looking. None of them are like… Sora.

Ugh. Don't do that, Kairi. Don't compare everyone to him. Everyone else will just look shitty. Heck, even this Riku guy looks shitty right about now. Just here to talk? Yeah fucking right.

Why do guys do that? I know what he's trying to do. He's playing a game and putting himself in a position of power. He's probably had his way with women all his life. I'm sure he's the guy who makes girls think that anything they can get from him is a blessing from the heavens. Like, maybe if I talk to him and he likes me enough, he'll grant me ten seconds of uninterrupted eye contact or something.

I swipe through another group of profiles. Freaking hell. Sora singlehandedly ruined my Mingler experience. Everyone's either too ugly or too douchey or too dumb-looking. In fact, now that I think about it, Sora's a little too good to be true. Well, that's not saying much, because my definition of a good night means that I didn't get kidnapped, drugged, mugged, murdered, and/or raped because of my reckless behavior.

But come on. Even if I find another Sora—and this is the last time I'm using Sora as a metric—there's no telling whether or not that guy will be as great as Sora is in bed. Because wow. Imagine I'm the Awards Academy and Sora's a nominee: Sora would win the award for best one-night stand, best sex marathon, best hands, best tongue, and best technique. He's that good. Normally one-night stands are a hot mess because the guy has no fucking clue how to get me off even when I tell him, but Sora was pretty on-point last night.

If there's anything working against him, it's that crazy hair of his. It's sexy, sure, and it's a blast to run your hands through when he's rocking the proverbial boat, but that shit just tickled my thighs when he'd go down on me.

And before I arouse myself, I should stop thinking about him. But I really want to brag about my night to someone. I wish I had sluttier friends like me. No one I know can truly appreciate the amazingness of my latest one-night stand, and I don't think anyone I know would approve anyway. Can't exactly call up my parents and be like, "Hey guys! Guess who I fucked last night!" And I can imagine Naminé's reaction so perfectly in my head: her mouth agape, her hand raised to cover it in shock, her brow furrowed in disgust.

Ah. The burdens of my secret slutty life. That should be the title of my future memoir that I'll write before I die. Sora will definitely be in it as my first best sex partner because yes, I'm counting on having more best sex partners, and all my future grandkids will learn that grandma got it on in college.

Wait a second. I do have someone to talk to! I bring up Riku's profile. Mingler lets its users send a 140-character limit message when you tap them—with your fingers, not when you screw them. Anyway, with that in mind, I can increase my chances that Riku will reciprocate the tap.

_I have a secret that I want to share. Can I trust it with you?_

That sounds flirty enough. I'm a genius. Let me spell it out: let's assume Riku is actually a nice guy. If he is, then I've found a friend I can talk to about all this stuff. Worst case scenario is friendship. Best case is Riku, in his room or mine, pinned underneath me. Boom. Sounds like a win-win to me. Now let's assume Riku is one of those shitty guys who are on Mingler to get attention and make girls pine after him. Worst case scenario is that he ignores me and I dodge a bullet. Best case scenario is that he gets to hear about all my little sexcapades with other guys.

I'm a genius.

While I'm mentally patting myself on the back, the world gets a little darker around me, like there's a shadow blocking the sun. I look up.

Well slap my ass and call me Sally. It's Sora. The stars have aligned and delivered to me the hottest piece of ass I've ever had the pleasure of tapping.

Fuck.

He leans over me and a smile slowly spreads across his face.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't the sexiest sweater stealer in the world," he says, placing his hands on his hips like a disciplinarian who caught his mark red-handed. "God, I'm glad I rehearsed that in my head while walking here. Too many S sounds."

I try to act cool, like I expected to ever run into him again, or maybe like I always knew he was going to find me. "I'm guessing you want this back," I say, lifting one of the hoodie strings.

"Nah, it's fine. You look good wearing my stuff," Sora says. His voice drops. "But seriously, I'll be needing it back later. It's my favorite, but letting you keep it might mean that I'll see you again. You know, when you return it."

"Saying it looks good on me doesn't exactly make me want to give it back." I bite back a smile. I must admit that I love having Sora's attention. Shameless, I know, but come on. And did I really spend the night with this guy? I tapped _that?_

God damn. I need a friend I can brag to about this.

"That's either a really obscure way of saying I should take it off you or a really overt way of saying I'm not getting it back," Sora says. "Whatever. You got somewhere to be? I kind of do, but I think I'll join you here if you don't mind." He sits down.

I can reach his face with my hand, but touching his face out of the blue would probably make things weird. "Were you looking for me, Sora?" I ask.

"Yup," he answers without hesitating. "I figured that if I've seen you naked before, I should be able to recognize you with clothes on."

"I don't think it works like that."

"I know. Really, there are only so many places you could be if you're on campus. And I only assumed you were on campus because you left this morning. That's something a person with priorities would do."

I laugh. "Good attempt at deduction, but I didn't leave because I had to get ready for class. I mean, I had class, but I didn't go."

Sora shrugs. "Well, that leaves destiny or fate or whatever you want to call it. This meeting was just meant to be."

"You scanned for redheads, didn't you?"

He leans back. "What? No!"

"Sora."

"…Well there are only so many of your kind on campus."

"My— you know what? Never mind."

We stop talking. I don't feel the need to discuss how lucky he had to be to find me, and though I am curious how long he was searching and how often he combed this area, I know that's not why he's here.

"You might as well just say whatever's on your mind," I say. The silence doesn't bother me, but we don't need to beat around the bush here. We're big kids now.

"Did you really have to leave before breakfast?" Sora asks, sighing as he brought up a knee to lean on.

I sit up to fast-forward the conversation. "I'm skipping to the good part," I say as I look Sora in the eye. "Sorry, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, you'd definitely be in the running, but I'm nowhere near ready for a committed relationship right now. Sorry," I add another apology out of a sense of obligation.

Sora's eyes are wide. He clears his throat and looks away. "This conversation went a lot better in my head."

I force a smile. "If you hung out with me more, you'd find that I'm really good at disappointing people."

Sora shakes his head. "No, that's not what I meant. I knew it was a long shot anyway—"

"Oh don't do that," I interrupt. "Don't make me out to be someone who's too good for you."

Sora raises a brow. "My god, can I finish?"

"Yeah, fine. Sorry." I hold my hand up to let him know he can continue.

"As I was saying, you are way out of my league—no! You said you'd let me finish!" Sora chides when I open my mouth. "You're awesome, so I thought I'd at least try asking."

"Sorry," I say. "If it makes you feel any better, you're fun too. You won't have a problem with girls. Trust me."

He shifts his weight, leaning a bit closer. "See, that's the thing. I'm not really interested in other girls right now. And yeah, I know I don't know you and all, but I wouldn't mind learning, even if you want to be just friends."

I laugh. He can't be serious. He's crazy if he thinks we can be just friends. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. "How many of your friends have you slept with?"

He's visibly confused by the question. He scratches the back of his head as he answers, "None?"

"Exactly. Once you've slept together, you've passed a certain point and you've closed certain doors. Friendship—just being friends—is one of them. There's no going back from what we did."

"Damn, Kairi. Don't make it sound like we killed a guy. We had mindblowing sex—best sex I've ever had too."

I nodded. "Yeah, it was pretty great." I feel the corners of lips twitch. Wait. "Okay, hold on. That's not the point. We can't be just friends."

"So should we be something more?" Sora asks.

I shake my head. "It's better if we just leave our date as a one-night stand."

Sora takes a meditative breath. He's obviously not going to accept my decision without making an argument of his own. "Alright, hear me out. I'm about to lead you through my thought process here, so I want to make sure we're on the same page first. You're saying we can't be anything?" Sora asks. He's leaning in pretty close, and I wonder if he's doing it on purpose. He knows I find him attractive, so maybe he's trying to subtly sway my opinion by… I don't know, being all sexy and stuff.

"We've passed the point of no return," I affirm. "Sora, we fucked like animals last night. There is no way we can realistically stop at a point where we see each other, hang out, and exist as friends. We skipped a few stages and they simply can't be redone."

"Because the opposite makes a lot of sense," Sora says sarcastically. "Think about it, Kairi. Traditionally, you're friends first. What's the end game? 'Oh, I like you a lot. Will you please let me put my penis inside you?' Or for a girl, it's 'I've decided I like you enough to let you penetrate me.'"

I laugh. "You phrasing it like that makes it seem way weirder than it actually is."

"That's how I see it. Like, 'Hey, we've had a couple great dates. I feel much closer to you now, so why don't I help you ejaculate with my vagina?'"

I shook my head. How many times has Sora made this argument? I find it strangely convincing, if only because he's being so frank about it. It takes me a while before I figure out a way to respond. "There's more to it than that, Sora. Things like chemistry, attraction… trust."

"You don't trust me?"

"Hell no. I have no idea who you really are," I say with a smile. It's true. Sora could be some international spy, a runaway masquerading as a college student, or even the illegitimate bastard son of another world's king. All I know about him is that he's a pretty funny guy. "I don't even know your last name. Do you know mine?"

"Uh, that's not the point right now. The point is you trusted me enough to sleep with me," Sora says. His face seems closer to mine than it did before this conversation started.

"No, I was _horny_ enough to sleep with you. Big difference."

"You mean you're not horny right now?"

I roll my eyes. "No, Sora, I'm not. Are you?"

He deadpans. "Kairi, I've been sporting a boner ever since I spotted you. No, I spent the entire ride to campus thinking about last night, so I've had a boner since getting off the tram this morning."

This fucking guy. "You're so full of shit."

"No, it's true. And that's actually how I found you. I just followed the direction it was pointing in," Sora says. He almost gets through it without breaking face, but he fails terribly. "You are the True North to the compass that is my penis, Kairi."

"That might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me." I wipe the corners of my eyes. And no, I'm not crying because I found it emotionally moving. I'm crying because my face hurts from laughing so much. "I don't know whether or not to give you more props for the unnecessary elaboration."

Sora sits there with a satisfied smirk on his face. He uncrosses his legs and turns so he isn't facing me. "Damn. You're right."

"What?" I take a few deep breaths to ease the ache in my sides.

"We can't be just friends," he says. "And we should have sex again, don't you think?"

"Here?" I scrunch my face. "And with you?"

"Not here, obviously. What the hell do you take me for?" Sora looks disgusted that I had even asked in the first place. "And of course I meant with me. You think I'm about to hand you a list of guys I think you should sleep with?"

"Sora, I've already told you I'm the hit-it-and-quit-it kind of gal." As soon as I finish the sentence, I start a debating my choice. I'm definitely not dating Sora—that's the only thing I'm completely sure of—but it'd seem like a terrible waste if I didn't take advantage of him.

I mean, come on. How often do you meet a guy like him on a hook-up app? He's the entire package. I think. I don't really know that, but from what I've seen, he's the total package.

"Why don't you become the hit-it-then-hit-it-again-and-again-and-again ad infinitum kind of gal?" Sora asks. This asshole knows he's got a pretty dazzling smile and he's using it to his advantage rather shamelessly.

"Because no matter what you say, I'm not going to be your girlfriend. And if we continue to have sex, you're going to start feeling something that I won't return." I'm not going into a relationship to protect myself, first and foremost, but if I can avoid dragging someone down with me, I will. "I'm selfish as hell, Sora, and I like you enough to stay away."

"Well if you're selfish, then you should take advantage of me," Sora suggests. "I know you're locked in on this idea that you can't or shouldn't bond with someone you've had sex with, but if you ever change your mind, then you should know that I'm available and up for anything." He stands up and puts his backpack on.

"Wait, you're leaving? Where are you going?" I sit up a bit straighter. Did I piss him off? I thought everything was going pretty well, but he's suddenly in a rush to leave.

"Some people have class, Kairi," Sora teases, "and I was supposed to be gone minutes ago. I'll see you later. Oh"—Sora pulls a scrap of paper and scribbles something on it before handing it over—"here's my number. I figure since you deleted your number from my phone, you probably got rid of mine on yours. Ball's in your court now."

I pinch the paper between my thumb and pointer finger. A number that was once in my phone is messily scrawled on the back of a receipt. "Don't you want your hoodie back?" I ask.

"Only if you want to give it back," Sora says with a wink. "See you later—for real this time!" He jogs off before I can say anything else.

* * *

The rest of my day plays out normally:

I wear Sora's hoodie for the rest of the day. It's so damn comfy.

I finish some weekend homework because I care about my grades. Plus, getting points on something I directly control means I don't have to try as hard on the exams.

I copy the notes Naminé took from the class I missed earlier. I'd make skipping class a habit, but even I think it's mean to copy notes every day.

I finish my laundry, clean the apartment, and send Naminé the cliché text telling her that I won't be in the apartment when they come back from dinner so she and Roxas should have a "good time" wink wink smiley face smiley face before going to the grocery store. Nothing like Friday night shopping for life's necessities.

It's not until I'm walking through the produce section that I remember I've been carrying Sora's phone number the entire time. The last time I was here, I was so wound up that anything remotely phallic got me going. Really, dry spells are terrible things, and had Sora not ended mine, I would've been in trouble. But this was more random. You know those Random Acts of Kindness things? Remembering Sora is like that, except it's more a Random Moment of Horniness. If I didn't have such a strong sexual appetite, I might've forgotten he gave me his number, but I can't help who I am. So by the time I return home, Sora Mingler is my newest contact.

I should probably learn his last name at some point.

I think most people would jump at the chance of great sex, especially if it was guaranteed. I don't know if most _good_ people would knowingly and willingly take advantage of another person for that chance of great sex though. And being a good person might be overrated since the world seems to like rewarding those who aren't good, but I just can't be the kind of girl who would, for example, steal from charity that's willing to support me when I'm not necessarily pressed for money or food or whatever.

Sure, I'm a college student, so free stuff is always great, but it just feels wrong to take something that someone else might need.

That's barely related to Sora, of course. It's a terrible analogy at best because he's getting something out of it too, which is sex with me. And I like to think I'm no slouch in bed—in fact, I like to think I'm amazing in bed, amazing enough that the hot guy I rocked last night actually tried to find me again.

God, if he wasn't hot, can you imagine how creepy that would be?

I think I'm going to do it—do him, whatever. I know it's wrong to take advantage of someone who will probably develop feelings for me if he hasn't already, but I'm a bitch at my core and I'm not sure I can pass up this opportunity. I'll just need to tell him how it's going to work. Perhaps not tonight, but at least in the near future.

I send him a text to let him know I'm coming over, then disappear to take a long and warm shower. By the time I get out, his response is displayed on my phone. We agree to meet at his apartment after I confirm that he's alone and not doing anything tonight. I find it a little weird that he has nothing to do on a Friday night, but perhaps he's like me and he, coincidentally, does not have plans either.

I put on some yoga pants and throw Sora's hoodie on, packing my shirt and bra with some cosmetic necessities into a backpack. I figure if he's really up for whatever, we can get started tonight, and the fewer clothes I have to take off, the better. I'll also have Naminé's car, so if things go awry, I can leave whenever I want.

I retrace the route I ran this morning, only this time it only takes me a few minutes to reach Sora's apartment complex. Once I'm in, I have to stop and figure out which direction to take at the roundabout. If it were still bright outside, it'd be pretty easy. I spot one of the landmarks I used this morning—the student-painted mural I'd passed on the way in and out of Sora's apartment. Though the buildings are similar, finding Sora's is easier. Plus, his Vespa is parked in the scooter/motorcycle parking just in front of his building.

I knock on Sora's door. It's the only one without some sort of decoration or welcome mat.

The door opens into his apartment. Sora's wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, and his hair looks damp from a recent shower.

"Cold?" he asks as he steps aside. "You could've just returned it on Monday. We could've met somewhere on campus."

_It _was the hoodie of his that I'd taken this morning, and I guess I never said that I was here for sex, not to return it. I mean, I wouldn't be opposed to returning it while I'm here, but it's certainly not why I came.

"Remember when you said that you were up for anything?" I ask, putting my backpack on the couch. "If you were serious about that, then I'm taking you up on your offer."

Sora stares at me, looking a little confused. I swear I can see the gears turning in his head behind those blue eyes. "So I'm assuming it's like… just sex?"

I roll my eyes. "Way to jump to conclusions. I came to clean your apartment, actually. I've got a maid costume in there"—I point to my backpack—"but that's gonna cost you extra."

Sora chuckles. "Okay, okay, I get it. Stupid question." He passes me and opens the door to his bedroom. "But if you've really got a maid costume in there, you're welcome to put it on."

I follow him into the room and, with my back to him, pull off his hoodie. Bunching it to my chest, I look over my shoulder and see a slack-jawed Sora staring at my exposed skin.

We really should be talking about the details of this arrangement, but it only takes a few seconds before we're entangled and naked on his bed.

I run my hands through his hair as he kisses my neck, a gasp the only sound I can manage as he works his way down. Talking can definitely wait 'til after we're done. Right now, I want to enjoy this.

To be continued.

* * *

**I… honestly forgot about you all.**

**Jayquellan**:You know how it do.

**Heeygurlitsme**: It's all about dat coupling.

**KittyKat1217:** It is. Kairi just doesn't know her shit, but I'm okay with that. She orders coffee instead of pumpkin spice latte, doesn't wear rain boots when there's a puddle outside her door, and she also can even. I am grateful that last chapter commanded your attention for durations lasting longer than a sparrow's gaze.

**Crush-chan17:** And I adore you. You are very well-written (that is, you communicate clearly) and you are kind. I wonder how you will like this panning out.

**blissfulnightrain**: Ah, blissful nigh train! Your passengers await your imminent arrival. I kid. And now I'm laughing at my own joke, which is most likely funny only to me. Be proud: it was your review that reminded me I had a story here that I had shared some months ago. You had spurred me into action with your wonderfully kind review. I want Kairi to be everything I'm not and experience everything I haven't. I'm delighted we can all enjoy her. So, you asked, I had to deliver. Swag out.

**Would you like to read more?**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The rules are simple: no messy feelings, no unnecessary expectations, and no bullshit. It's a pretty vague set of rules, but easily explainable. First, this is purely a friends-with-benefits relationship—and yes, we can call it a relationship because that's what it is. It's a symbiotic relationship: I let Sora use my vagina, he lets me use his penis, we play with each other's bodies, everyone is happy. Second, we expect nothing more than sex from each other, and even then, both parties have the right to refuse or terminate the relationship at any time.

We also do not expect nor are we entitled to an explanation if things end. We do not expect repayment for actions done voluntarily (so, for example, when Sora insists that I stay for breakfast the next morning, he shouldn't expect me to cook him breakfast or wash the dishes or give him a blowjob as a reward). Reasonably, we expect sexual pleasure from each other—in the "we're having sex with each other for fun" context—since that's the entire reason we're doing this.

Finally, no bullshit, which took a little longer to iron out. Basically, we follow the other rules and don't try to get around it. We don't fall for each other. We are honest with our thoughts and feelings regarding the sustainability of this relationship. We hold our end of the bargain. We don't overstep our boundaries, both inside and outside the arrangement.

See? Nice and simple.

* * *

I wake up fully clothed in Sora's bed the following morning. It's not as disappointing or as disorienting as last time because I actually chose to stay, which might have been a mistake, but at least I didn't go to sleep naked and at least I don't have to jog home. After making sure I didn't drool on his pillow (not that I could do anything to reverse it if I had, but it's nice to make sure I didn't do anything embarrassing while sleeping over), I roll out of bed and check the time, wondering why I'm awake before 11 on a Saturday. It's not like I have cartoons to watch, so really the best course of action is to crawl right back into bed and sleep until I feel compelled to do something productive.

I love weekends in college. Sometimes doing "something productive" means changing out of your PJs. To an adult, that's a necessary task. To college students, it's like an action deserving of praise—like wow, you got up today and changed into something decent and you didn't even have to. Take a bow while we slow clap for you.

Sora works loudly in the kitchen. He either knows I'm awake, doesn't give a shit whether I'm awake or not, wants to wake me up, or blissfully unaware that it sounded like he threw a pan into the sink from the other side of the room.

He's facing the stove. His Disney-themed pajama pants rest low his hips, the waistband of his boxer briefs barely visible. He still looks fantastic. Is there anything he can't pull off? I mean, goddamn. I had sex with that thing last night.

My backpack is still on the couch. I take out my wallet and slip some money into the hoodie I borrowed yesterday. The money's for the date that he paid for. I thought about leaving it on his desk with a note that says "thanks for the sex" but joke or not, he'd definitely try giving it back. So now the next time he wears his hoodie, he's going to think he's the luckiest dude in the world because finding money in a jacket is like waking up on Christmas morning.

"Morning," I mumble.

"Good morning! You look even better with sex hair. This should be a thing," Sora says with a smirk. He turns back to the stove. He seems a little… manic. He reminds me of a contestant on those cooking shows and how they handle like three or four pans at once, trying to make a dish worthy of a five-star restaurant with shitty ingredients and twenty minutes. Whether or not Sora actually knows what he's doing remains to be seen, but from here it looks like he's just frantically trying to not burn the house down. I can't really tell what he's cooking because the entire place smells strongly of coffee, but I know there's no bacon involved. I think I would have smelled that.

"Why are we up so early on a Saturday?" I ask, taking a seat at a small square table. There were only two chairs. I don't think Sora had guests over often, and if he did, then it was probably one guest at a time.

"9:30 isn't that early," Sora said. It sounded more defensive than an argument of opposition. "And I'm meeting a friend in half an hour. We work out together. This doesn't happen by accident." Sora breaks from his chaotic routine and points to himself, waving his finger around in a lazy circle.

"Oh. Well I appreciate all your hard work," I tell him.

"Oh, it's worth it," he says, winking.

"Lots of health benefits, right?"

"So many health benefits."

"What sorts?"

"I feel great physically. People are nicer when you look nice too, so it's great for your mental health and self-esteem."

He's not wrong, but he's bullshitting. "Mm-hmm."

"And best of all, I get to have sex with girls like you," he says. I was waiting for him to bring up the sex.

"Girls like me?"

"The one-in-a-billion kind."

I roll my eyes. "Sora, we've already had sex and agreed to have more in the future. You don't have to talk me up anymore."

Sora turns off the stove. "Yeah, but would you have slept with me if I didn't look like this?"

"I came back because you're good at it."

"How could you have known that without trying it though? Looking good gets my foot in the door. We eat with our eyes first, don't we?" Sora sweeps by the table and places a plate in front of me.

Holy shit.

Carefully arranged on the plate are two slices of French toast sprinkled with cinnamon, an arrangement of strawberry, banana, and melon slices, and scrambled eggs garnished with… "What's this green stuff?"

"Chives," Sora says, placing butter and syrup on the table. His plate looks like mine except not as nice, like he didn't take the time to plate everything neatly.

"Does it taste as good as it looks?" I ask.

Sora eats some of his scrambled eggs and frowns. "I didn't season them enough." He gets up again and brings back salt and pepper shakers. "You might need these."

I start with the eggs. They're delicious. "Holy shit, where did you learn to cook like this?" I ask. I mean, they're eggs, but you know there's a difference between real eggs and powdered ones, for example, and these taste legit. I sample everything on the plate. Fruit is fruit, but the French toast is perfect and fluffy and all kinds of incredible.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it."

"My mom's a chef," he says.

"Was that answer going to change based on whether or not I said I liked it?"

"Yup. I would've told you I taught myself instead of shame my mom's cooking," he says with a smile.

"She taught you?"

"For the most part. The summer before I came here—to this university—my mom made me cook every meal every day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for like… two and a half, three months? She said I had to learn how to _really_ cook." He pauses to eat more. "It was really shitty at first, but now I've got maybe three or four go-to recipes for every meal that I'm decent at."

"This is one of them?" I ask.

"Yup. She even taught me how to plate everything, which comes in handy when I want to impress someone."

Add this to the list of things that make Sora attractive. How the hell was this guy not in a relationship? He didn't seem to have commitment issues. If anything, it seemed like he preferred long-term relationships. "Hey, what are you bad at?" I ask.

"What?" he asked.

"You're a little too perfect and it's freaking me out," I say. Damn. This is the best French toast I've ever had—not that I've had a lot of French toast in the past or like, ever, but still.

"Are you falling for me already, Kairi?"

"So you're full of yourself. What else?"

"Kairi, I cook a lot and I've put in the time, so it's not like I'm magically good at everything."

"I believe you, so surely there are things you're terrible at."

Sora shrugs. "Hmm. I speak one language. I can't sing—in fact, I don't really have a musical bone in my body. Art in general is wasted on me," he lists them, his eyes cast upward in thought. "I always envied people who could play an instrument. Also my grades are pretty bad."

"Oh good. Now you're average again."

He laughs. "I don't want you forming any unrealistic expectations of me."

"Hey, we agreed that wouldn't happen," I say. "What else?"

"I tend to talk a lot when someone asks me about myself when I should really be asking other people what they're like," Sora says.

"I actually prefer it like that. The less people know about me, the better," I say. "So how shitty are your grades exactly?"

"I'll be rocking a solid B-average throughout college at best, worse if I get distracted."

"What, by like a girlfriend or something?"

"Or college life in general."

"That's not incredibly shitty."

"It's not competitive either," Sora says with a shrug. "One of my teachers in high school told me I'd be fine anyway. Said something about how in today's world, it's all about who you know and networking with the right people."

"I agree. You seem like you're easy to get along with," I say. "Just sleep with everyone you meet and you'll be good to go."

Sora laughs. "That's one way to impress people, though somewhat unethical."

* * *

Sora kicked me out after breakfast.

No, he didn't really, but he should have. He was too considerate, and that's why he was going to be late meeting his friend.

"If you slack off and become ugly, the deal's off!" I said sweetly as I left.

"I'm going to pretend that wasn't extremely disheartening and tell you thanks for the motivation!" he called after me. I had to look him in the eye to make sure he was joking. I think he was.

Oh well.

I shouldn't have slept over anyway. It's too intimate and leaves a lot of time for post-sex bonding. I guess we're more resistant since we're aware, but generally speaking, it's tough to separate feelings from sex. I mean, it's not a problem if it's a one-time thing, but developing feelings is a dangerous and somewhat likely possibility when you repeatedly engage in something as intimate as sex. This is the first and last time I sleep over, I tell myself, even though it's technically the second in as many days. The first time didn't count since that was a one-night stand. I technically left in the morning, and I wouldn't have slept over anyway if I hadn't been exhausted.

I drive home and decide that I need to shower. Naminé is in her room when I enter, which I'm grateful for since I don't feel like answering questions right away and I think I smell bad, or not really bad, but just different. Sometimes I feel like people can smell that I've just had sex. There's a little axiom about how if you can smell yourself, others can smell you too. It's a pretty big deal if you can smell yourself too since you smell yourself all the time, even if we think ourselves odorless. But I know I smell because I'm followed by Sora's scent. I'm half-convinced my vagina also smells like rubber. I swear I can still smell it.

Maybe I'll ask Sora to get tested so we can just ditch the condoms. I'm on the pill, which is enough to keep babies from growing inside me and stealing my life force, but it's best to make sure that neither of us picked up any weird diseases before meeting each other.

When I get out of the shower, Naminé is knocking on my bedroom door.

"Lunch later?" she asks.

"Why not?" I shoot back.

Saturday with Naminé surprisingly belonged to me. I think she and Roxas designated Saturday afternoons as me-time or something. They spend a lot of time together during the week, and on Sundays they're out (or in Roxas's apartment) the entire day. I think Naminé feels guilty for taking up my Saturday afternoons—afternoons I'd no doubt spend doing basic ass shit—because once a month, she always offers to treat me to lunch at my choice. She says it's because she never likes going alone, but I'm not sure if that's the truth. She's the kind of person who'd claim she was okay or had no problem doing favors if it made others feel less guilty.

No joke. She's the type of person who'd be bleeding out in the back seat and say, "Of course we can stop for milkshakes on the way to the hospital. A little knife wound never killed anybody!" if anyone mentioned they were craving frozen treats. She's the type of girl who'd apologize to an egg after dropping it and hold a funeral for it where she'd read her handwritten thirteen-page eulogy lamenting the life it never lived.

Okay, I'm getting carried away.

After I put some clothes on, I invite myself into Naminé's obscenely clean room. Naminé sits at her desk, reading what looks like a huge block of text on her laptop.

"Lots of homework this weekend?" I ask, throwing myself across her bed. It occurs to me that there's a fairly large chance that sex happened on this bed fewer than twelve hours ago and I sit up. Is that unusual? Sometimes that's the first thought I have when I toss myself on someone else's bed. Like, I wonder if the other students living in the dorms wonder if their mattress, which is provided to them, has been broken in for them by lord knows how many people that have copulated on those uncomfortable cushions.

"Nothing more than the usual," she says without looking away from the screen.

I don't even know if Naminé has sex. I just assume she has since she's been in a long term relationship. The dirtiest thing I've seen them do is canoodle on the couch—some really sick shit, I know—and that was only because I surprised them by walking in. Naminé acted like she killed my dog (I do not have a dog) and apologized profusely at a later time even when I told her there was nothing to apologize for. She's very private with her sex life.

I guess that's just another similarity that we share.

I should smell the sheets.

Ew no! There is no winning outcome from smelling the sheets. I could just as easily ask Naminé if she and Roxas have touched all the bases. That's not likely to yield an answer, sure, but at least it's not creepy. Plus it'd be weird if Naminé sees me inhaling her sheets. My options out of that one are "I like the smell of you" and "I was wondering if your sheets smelled like sex." Both are kind of creepy.

"Did Roxas stay over last night?" I ask.

Naminé found this question worthy of eye contact. "Yup. And I don't recall you coming in at all last night."

"Oh, I did. Like, really late," I say. "Then I left really early this morning to meet a friend for breakfast."

"Sora?" She smiles. "The look on your face says yes."

Damn it, face. I'm trying to lie here. "Er, yeah. I decided to give him another chance."

"And you gave him that chance at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning after a night of little sleep," Naminé said with a sigh. "You must really want him to pass whatever test you've laid out for him."

"Right. This morning's test was 'can he be entertaining enough to keep me awake through breakfast without annoying me while I'm tired,' and I'm proud to report that he passed."

"And he must really like you if he's trying to reach your impossibly high standards," Naminé added.

"You're ready to ring the wedding bells, aren't you?"

"I'm claiming maid of honor before you make more friends," she says with a shrug. Much to my relief, she changes the subject. "Have you picked your classes for next semester yet?"

"I'm locked out of registration for like another week and a half. Don't people with more credit hours get priority?"

I must have said something stupid because Naminé gave me a look. "Come back with your laptop."

Why do I feel like I did something wrong?

"Open the class registrar," Naminé says when I get back, and then we spend the next half hour planning the next semester. Naminé is on point with everything. I don't know how or why she knows so much, or at least she seems like she knows more than the average freshman, because as we go through the steps, I realize how much I have to do just to prepare for registration.

Why do they make you jump through so many hoops to register? To start, I update my emergency contact information, which boiled down to pressing nothing but "update my emergency contact information" because I don't need to fix it. Then I'm told to change my email password. I have to include a capital letter, a number, use at least eight characters, and include a symbol like a question mark or ampersand, and can't use real words. What the actual fuck? Who does that? I get by with three personal passwords and none of them include symbols and only one of them has eight characters.

After several attempts, my new password is Ka1r!dagr8. Kairi the Great: easy to remember, but just fucking ridiculous enough that the system accepts the shitstorm of characters called a password. I don't get to be satisfied with myself for too long because Naminé then makes me go through the list of courses.

"Have you finished your general education prerequisites?" Naminé asks.

"Uh, maybe? What are those?" I ask. She sends me an easy-to-digest table. I recognize the requirements—thank goodness—and read through. General education exists so that every student proves competency in every field that may not be included in their major, like history and math and sciences and language and computer literacy. It insures that you don't get a science major, for example, who can't write a proper essay. I finished most of these with credit from high school, and the current semester was constructed around filling anything I might have missed. "I have to take one more social science."

"Oh! Take Human Sexuality and Culture with me. It's an anthropology course. I need to do some 'out of discipline' studies and that seemed interesting, so hop on board. Plus, I hear it's not too difficult," Naminé says.

"I didn't take you for someone who'd trade learning something new for an easy A."

"I'm not going to make life harder than it has to be, "Naminé says. "Besides, I don't know anything about how other cultures view sex or the sexuality spectrum or sex views through history."

"The fact that you're aware seems to be a good indicator that you won't encounter anything new in this class."

"Well, sure. I have information, but I don't have knowledge on the subject."

"What's the difference?" I ask.

"Stars and constellations," she says.

I think about it for a bit. "That's a pretty good point," I say.

Naminé brings up this spectacular spreadsheet filled with ideal schedules and contingency plans. This girl is the real deal. She has planned for every possible conflict from missing out on the class entirely to fallbacks just in case there are scheduling issues. She has back-ups for everything.

"My god you know everything. I need to quit fucking around," I say. I briefly wonder if Sora is still working out when Naminé pulls me back to the task at hand.

"I'm making you one on another tab, don't worry," Naminé says. "Now that we got general education out of the way, let's dig into major coursework."

"I currently have no official major," I say meekly, reminding my roommate that I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

"Right. Forgot about that." Naminé walks out of the room and returns with my schedule in hand. I had pinned it on the fridge so she knew my class schedule in case of emergencies, or if I wasn't picking up when she needed to find me. "You took a bunch of hard classes this semester," she says as she reads over my schedule.

"I did exactly what my advisor told me to do," I say. Maybe my advisor was hoping I'd get kicked out of the university or placed on academic probation or something. I wouldn't be surprised if they were trained to do that. Colleges these days thrive on statistics, so reducing their unemployment rate among graduates is probably a priority. If indecisive people like me, who are probably less likely to have a job lined up out of graduation because we still don't know what to do with our lives, are kicked out of the university before graduation, then they're all set.

It's a rather cynical view, I know, but I'd do shit like that too if my reputation mattered that much.

"How are your grades?" Naminé asks.

"Fine, I think. Might get all A's depending on how finals go. If I do that poorly I might get all C's." Well, C+'s if I fail every single final, which probably won't happen, but isn't that crazy? College exams are scary. Shit's casually worth forty percent of your grade (AKA your livelihood, self-worth, pride, etc.) and everyone walks around like the stress that causes is normal.

"Want to major in finance with me?" Namine asks.

"I think I'd rather gouge my eyes out," I say. "No offense."

She shrugs. "It's not for everyone. I do it because I can."

"Yeah, but you enjoy it, right?"

"Most of the time, I guess. I wouldn't say I'm passionate about it or anything."

"I guess it's enough to say that you enjoy it more often than not."

Namine nods. "There isn't going to be a major where I like every little thing I do. The courses I take are interesting and the field after college is pretty safe, not to mention I've found that I'm pretty good at it."

"It's a lot more fun to do things you're good at," I say. I guess I fall into the category of people who don't know what they're good at or people who aren't good at anything.

For what feels like the next few minutes, Naminé helps me construct my own ideal schedule with back-ups backing up my back-up choices of section, class, and class time. There are a few tangents here and there—whose turn it is to clean the kitchen or living room, the changing weather and subsequent fashion necessities, and people who pretend not to be cold and tell everyone how not cold they are: do they take things too literally and think being ice cold is cooler than being cool?—but we stick to our task pretty well.

Before we realize, it's lunchtime.

* * *

I feel like I was productive this morning. I know all I did was take care of pre-registration roadblocks, but I was like a real college student this morning. Thank goodness for roommates who have their shit together.

Is this what people feel like when they have a direction in life? When they know what they want? They really are one step ahead. All I know is that I want my ideal schedule to happen so I won't have schools on Fridays, and that sorry excuse for a plan has put me over the moon. Maybe one day I'll be one of those people who says "after this semester I will be doing X internship at Y location" and "I think I'll join Z organization because it seems to coincide with my interests."

Naminé ends up taking us to one of the more popular joints in Twilight Town, if only because it offers healthy food at an affordable price. Seriously though, why is it so expensive to be healthy sometimes? Or maybe it's better to ask why it's much easier to be unhealthy instead. I don't know. Healthy and delicious sometimes feel like they're mutually exclusive.

I order a salad, and when the employee behind the counter asked if I wanted chicken with it, I wasn't expecting it so I panicked and said sure, throw it in, and that costs a little extra, so now I'm poorer than I have to be because I panicked and I really didn't need the chicken in my salad. Oh well.

But come on. I just accomplished something today. Don't spring surprise chicken on me.

"Where do you think that girl got her dress?" Naminé whispered when we found a table near the window. Her eyes flicked over to the girl on the other side of the room. "I kind of want—wait, no, it'd look shitty on me actually. I'm too pale."

"Oh shut up," I say. "You pull off pretty much anything."

Take now, for example. Naminé normally wears dresses, but she's rocking floral pants right now. For real? I never know what to wear with floral pants. I guess now I do, since I think Naminé looks fantastic and I think I need to add blazers to my wardrobe. She looks so… professional? Adult-like? Like, real adult. College graduate with an above-median salary job adult. Yeah. That kind. Leave it to Naminé to dress up for hangover hour lunch like it's a Sunday brunch.

"I think when you go off to see Roxas I'm going to sneak into your room and try on all your clothes," I say.

"Feel free." She laughs. She's totally serious too. "And don't look now, but there's a guy in line right now staring at you and smiling like an idiot. Happen to know anyone with crazy hair?"

"Huh?" The only person I know with crazy hair is her boyfriend. Well, more recently there's Sora, but he wouldn't be here.

"Oh, he's coming over. We made eye contact. Sorry!" Naminé said sheepishly.

Oh come on, life. Why you gotta do me like that? Don't spring surprise Sora on me.

"Are you following me, Kairi?" Sora greets as he arrives at our table. He looks out of place in his warm-up jacket and swimming trunks, like he didn't check the weather before going out. It reminds me of the "people who pretend not to be cold" conversation earlier.

And yet… he makes it work. Kill me.

He turns his attention to Naminé. "Hi there, I'm Sora."

Naminé goes from timid school girl to Cheshire cat in a hot second. "Hello, I'm Naminé! I'm Kairi's roommate," she says sweetly, shaking Sora's hand.

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. Kairi's told me a lot about you," Naminé says.

I raise a brow. She and I both know that isn't true.

"Really?" Sora asks skeptically. "I'm flattered."

"Yeah, she was just telling me how much fun you guys had last night. And speak of the devil, right?" Naminé smiles broadly.

Sora looks surprised, but he runs with it. "Yeah, I'm glad she had fun… I guess."

"So what are you doing here?" I ask Sora. Seriously, he couldn't have planned this. This is the second time in as many days that he's run into me unexpectedly. Even if the first time was intentional, it's hard to believe the second was an accident.

"Uh, just getting smoothies with my friend." Sora looks toward the line. "Hey, Riku!" he beckons.

Riku? I've heard that name before. Isn't that the guy—

Oh shit.

"Riku, this is my friend Kairi"—Sora doesn't miss a beat in calling me a friend—"and my new friend Naminé. They're roommates. And ladies, this is my best friend, Riku."

I make eye contact with Riku. Yup. This is the guy I tapped on Mingler. Like Sora, he's just as hot—if not hotter—in real life. If Sora was sculpted by the gods, then Riku was assembled in a lab by gay men who understood and appreciated everything that made a man physically attractive.

That's a step up from being sculpted by the gods, right?

Sure enough, a quick look around the room tells me that every girl has noticed Riku. And, now that I have a better look, every guy has too. He's tall, broad-shouldered, muscular. I can't stop staring at his hands. They are perfection. I mean, he's pretty impressive in general, but his hands are an entirely different matter. I want to bite them.

"Naminé and… Kairi?" he asks, confirming the names with us. His gaze lingers on me. Does he recognize me? I can't tell, and he doesn't bring up the fact that I tapped him on Mingler. "It's nice to meet you both."

"Likewise," Naminé says. She shakes his hand, and when he extends it to me, I have to resist the urge to pull it to my mouth and chew on his fingers.

I don't know why I have this urge, but I'm telling you, hashtag real talk, that his hands are perfect.

"So, just two dudes getting smoothies together," I say to Sora. I haven't known him long, but there's already a level of comfort with him that I can retreat to and forget the fact that I was hoping to match with his best friend and subsequently sleep with said best friend. Plus, Sora's easier to look at. I think Sora's a ten, but Riku makes him look like a nine. Riku's like an eleven that you can't stare at for too long. If I had to come up with a shitty metaphor to try and sound profound (and I don't, but I'm going to anyway), Riku's the sun that outshines the star that is Sora.

"Straightest thing ever, right?" Riku asks with a smirk. "It doesn't get much better than a smoothie after playing an underwater contact sport with other mostly naked dudes."

"When have we ever turned down a blitzball game?" Sora asks Riku. "Anyway, this guy's just mad that he was on the losing side."

I smile. Honestly, I don't know shit about blitzball or care for the sport in general, but these two are clearly ribbing each other, so to keep it from getting awkward because it's so unfunny, I laugh too.

"Why don't you guys pull up some chairs? Kairi and I are about to have lunch and you're welcome to join us," Naminé offers.

"Thanks for offering, but I actually have to cook lunch for this guy," Sora says, pointing his thumb at Riku. "I lost a bet."

"Aww, okay. Maybe next time," Naminé says as she looks at me. I can't tell if she's looking for approval or asserting that there will in fact be a next time.

Sora and Riku are called to pick up their to-go order and wave as they leave. Our food arrives shortly after.

"So that's Sora," Naminé says. She doesn't bring up the fact that my story and his don't match up, and she's not stupid enough to believe that I was out all night with Sora only to go home and meet up with him for breakfast early in the morning. She knows that I stayed over and she probably knows that I slept with him.

And she doesn't bring any of it up. I'm prepared for it, but she doesn't press.

I think this is why she's my best friend. I know she's dying to ask questions, and I have no doubt in my mind she'll bring it up later, but she's smart enough to recognize that I'd rather not talk right now.

"That's Sora," I say, stuffing my face with salad and chicken.

"His friend's pretty cute," she says.

I laugh. No, his friend Riku was panty-dropping hot. Sora, on the other hand… "Yeah," I say, "I guess he is."

000000000

After lunch, I check my phone while Naminé's in the bathroom. There are two notifications, one of which a text message from Sora.

Sora: _I didn't know we were telling people about our arrangement_

I reply: _We aren't, and I haven't. You did though. She didn't know where I was last night._

His reply comes quickly.

Sora: _Oops. Sorry about that._

Me: _Not a problem._

Sora: _You comin over tonight?_

Me: _Maybe. I'll let you know_

There's one more notification from Mingler. I open the app to see Riku matched with me a little while ago, probably as soon as they left.

So he did recognize me. He left a message.

Riku: _It was nice meeting you today, Kairi. If you're free tonight, we should meet. I'll buy you a drink. And don't worry. Sora doesn't know._

Well now. That's unexpected. I send a quick message to Sora, letting him know I wouldn't be coming over tonight, and answer Riku's invitation.

_Name the time and place and I'll see you there._

To be continued.

* * *

**School's out. I'm in.**

**BlissfulNightRain:** You guessed it. And I'm glad you like Kairi. I like Kairi too. She da illest. Sora's aiight.

**dontjudgeabookbyitscover15:** I don't think Kairi's a slut or a bitch. I think she's sexually liberated and knows she doesn't owe Sora anything. Nice to know you like her despite what you think of her. It is, I think, very easy for us to get mad at her for not liking Sora as much as we do. We'd all do deplorable things to please him. Oh my oh my, would we ever... Or perhaps I speak only for myself.

**kittykat1217:** Guuurl sometimes I wonder if we speak the same language. Love your reviews. All over the place, just like my updates. You've definitely guessed my age somewhere in there. It's definitely somewhere between 9-44, and I can tell you it's not 44. Quit cheesin' and be grateful.

**xo skyla:** First person POV writers are either super shitty storytellers with their heads so far up their arses or use their stories to preach their philosophies behind a "narrative." Maybe that's why it's so hard for you to get into them. Virginal Sora and Kairi a cliche? Sheeeeit. Happy to provide some variety.

**Clogallie:** Kairi knows what's up. Or she thinks she does. Don't know if she spittin' truth. Maybe she gets college (Hashtag the struggle is real). We share views on first person stories. Too much preaching. Not enough storytelling. I'm here to read about fack-buddies, not how lost in life this girl feels. Wait what?

**Ken7700:** Girl's gotta have standards. Why sleep with someone you don't know if you don't find them physically attractive? Kairi holdin' it down. And Sora's following his built-in compass. You think he's great, which is good, because he's written to make people like him.

**SoraxKairi7:** I was never popular. Maybe it extended to my stories. I think it has more to do with inconsistent updating though. Just a guess. Thank you for the compliments. You still writin' that fic? You should be. Have a great night? Don't tell me what to do. YOU have a great night. Yeah, how does that feel?

**The Reader that Never Was:** The lack of capital T on "that" in your name absolutely slays me. Ho damn, someone shared this story on facebook? Oh no y'all didn't. That's too nice.

**Harumaki:** No ragrets! Not even one letter. Shit, everybody skeptical of 1st person stories. I'd think I made a mistake, but first person lets me hide my writing deficiencies. Love when my two main characters take stage too. They're organic. Best part of the chapters are when they're alone together. Wink wink.

**I thought long and hard about what I want to do with this story and where I wanted it to go. Would you like to read more?**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I want to make it clear that I'm doing this because Sora's friend wanted to talk (and threw in a free drink, admittedly), not because I intend to go home with him today. Probably. I guess I'm saying that I'm not just sluttin' it up here. Is a part of me hoping that Riku will sleep with me? Admittedly, yes, because the ego boost would be huge. Would I actually sleep with him if he offered given my arrangement with Sora? No. Absolutely not.

I'm not that mean. I'd tell Sora that our arrangement would have to come to an end even if it's been just a day after telling him how everything was going to work. Like, hey, I can't be your booty call anymore because I'm going to sleep with your best friend if he asks me if I want to leave and find some place private. I don't know if Sora did the same, but I think he's smart enough to have thought of it himself, but friends with benefits have to be exclusive for health reasons, or if not exclusive, then at least very honest with their sexual conquests. It'd be a dick move to contract and spread an STD without letting the other person know. Like, if Sora slept with another girl, I'd expect him to tell me or end our relationship. I don't know if that girl gave Sora something to remember her by, and I certainly wouldn't want a piece of it if she did.

Sora, as an empathic human being, probably knows that he should give me a fair warning. Something like, "Hey, I just stuck my penis in another girl about four hours ago, is it okay if I now stick it in you?"

And I'd be like, "That depends… have you showered?"

No, I would not actually ask that. It'd be pretty gross if I was okay with Sora putting it in when he's got another girl's dried snatch juices on him, wouldn't it? But I don't think a shower would be enough for me.

What the hell am I talking about again? Right. Here for conversation and drink, not for sex. Oh, also here for eye candy, but again, not for sex. Maybe. Probably. More likely than not. Drinks. Free drinks.

"Kairi," Riku greets as he levitates into the bar. He actually walks like everyone else, but it's more fun to imagine the ground being unworthy of his beauty. "You're early. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me."

I shrug. "Of course. Can't say I was satisfied with our first meeting."

"The awkward run-in introduction didn't do it for you either?" Riku asked.

"It wasn't ideal, no. You wanted to talk, right? What about?" I ask.

"Anything. Well, except Sora. We can talk about how awesome or not awesome he is some other time. I get the feeling this won't be the only time we meet, so if we don't touch on everything tonight, I think I'll survive."

Hmm. More dates in the future. I can see that. "Why don't we start with drinks?"

"Of course." Riku called for the bartender's attention, which he coincidentally had as soon as he sat at the bar. "What will you be having?"

"Paopu margarita," I say.

"Make that two then," Riku says, flashing the bartender a smile. She giggles and nods, starting on the drinks.

"I like your drink choice," I say.

"That's my line. Paopu margaritas are delicious," Riku says.

I appreciate guys who order drinks without worrying if they're "girly" or not. "She didn't ID us."

"Isn't that convenient?" he shoots back. I don't quite get it, but I let it go. Riku shifts on his bar stool and faces me, placing his arm on the counter. "It's like she knows me or something. So do you still use Mingler?"

I'm tempted to ask him to elaborate, but if the bartender isn't making a big deal out of it, I sure as hell won't bring attention to the fact we're doing something slightly illegal. "I'll probably keep it around to see how many people like or tap me," I answer. "I checked it earlier today but haven't done much on it since… well, tapping you."

"Yeah I imagine that was before you and Sora hooked up again."

I shake my head. "Wait, you know about that?"

"You were all he talked about this morning when we went to the gym. And if I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, I pretty much know everything and how much he likes you," Riku says. He quickly adds, "Oh, not like that though. He made it clear it was a 'friends with benefits' thing."

"That's weird. I got the impression that he was keeping details discreet." If I recall correctly, Sora sent me a message earlier that made it seem like he was surprised Namine knew about him.

"Well, he tried. But I could tell he wanted to tell someone about his recent adventures and I threw him a bone," Riku says. "Uh, sorry if this is something you don't want to hear, but he told me everything. Like, the most detailed play-by-play I've ever heard." Riku shakes his head. "He just would not—_could not_ stop talking about you. He mentioned something about how you guys had been talking on Mingler for a little while, and when you met up, all his expectations were blown out of the water. Riku, she's sooo smart. Riku, she's sooo funny. Riku, you'd love her if you got to know her," Riku said in a poor imitation of Sora's voice. "The date, the night you went home with him, how he found you. Then about breakfast this morning. Then about how he was hoping to meet up with you later today. It was some vomit-inducing shit, really."

I grimace. "Now that's just filthy. Why couldn't he have just stuck to the normal things? Maybe like, I don't know, the exquisite texture of my vagina?"

Riku laughs. "Uh, no, that's disgusting. Anyway, I thought he was just smitten—I mean, he kind of is, but maybe he might be onto something."

Okay. This has been chummy and all, but it's probably time to put an end to the flirting. I lean back. "Telling me about another guy's rave review is an awfully strange way of hitting on someone."

Riku laughs. "I wouldn't waste my time hitting on girls I'm not interested in, "Riku says.

"Ouch." That was unexpectedly blunt. Guess I read that wrong.

"For what it's worth, I'm not interested in girls," Riku adds.

"Girls who are taken, you mean?"

"No, all girls. Not interested."

I rotate my glass. He's definitely not just saying this to make me feel better. He's clearly hinting at something, and if he says he's not interested in girls, then… "Oh. You… like dick."

Well now… I see we didn't waste any time. Not my ideal opening conversation, but if we're going to lay it all out, I'm going to stick around.

I admittedly never had a friend who did this (I've had gay friends who were either still in the closet or completely open about it and never had to say anything explicitly), believe it or not, so I don't know what's socially appropriate when someone comes out for you… or to you? I don't know. I wonder if I'm supposed to respond in kind: if they don't make a big deal out of coming out, I don't, and if they do, I should thank them for trusting me enough to tell me. Then again, I've read stories online where gay teenagers are delighted to find their parents respond very casually or flippantly when the kid's been building the event up in his mind.

I could've gone about responding to this new information in a variety of ways, but I think I picked the worst one.

Riku, thankfully, finds my reaction funny. "I think so. I mean, I know girls aren't for me, but I don't know if I like dick, you know?" He's smooth. Dude just rolls with the punches.

"Oh really? Waiting for a special someone to disappoint you?" I ask. "I'm sure you've got plenty of people willing and able."

Riku shrugs. "I don't know, really. I want something real, I think. Nothing casual. I want it to mean something. Something genuine," he rambles.

"So basically the opposite of what Sora and I are doing." I sip my margarita. This is good. I can talk about being a gay guy looking for love all night. I love it when I don't have to carry the burden of the conversation.

"Well you guys have figured out what you want on that front," Riku says. "For all I know I could get into a serious relationship, find it boring and horrific, and then follow the same path you two are going down."

"Are you implying that there's some sort of trauma that set us down the path of casual friends with benefits?"

Riku rolls his eyes. "Are you trying to be offended? If I gave you a shot of Captain Jack Sparrow Rum and you decided you didn't like it, you wouldn't call it trauma. You'd have a taste and that'd be the end of it. You don't have to be traumatized to figure out what you like."

I nod. I like this guy. "You're right, you're right. I'm more used to people condemning what I do. Sorry."

Riku brings his glass to his lips. "Don't worry about it."

"So let's talk more about this gay thing." I wave my hand in a circle, sensing that Riku was planning on changing the subject. "Who knows? I just… hmm. I was surprised."

"You're the second person I've indirectly told, but probably the fourth person to know. I never told my parents outright, but I think they know. You can only turn down so many pretty girls before they start getting suspicious."

I expected as much. I wonder if Riku has ever said the words "I'm gay" in his life. He's probably known he's been gay his whole life but has only just started being comfortable with it. I'd like to ask him why he's so wishy-washy about outright saying it, but that's personal history that I'm sure I could find out later. For now, there's a question more relevant to me.

"Can I ask why you're telling me? I'm glad you did, I mean, but to be the fourth person who knows? 'Cause again, and no offense, but I never would've guessed. I have either a shitty gaydar or you just don't give off that vibe at all."

Riku puts his drink on the bar and thumbs the rim of his glass. He didn't get his salted like I did. "I know, but it's not like I make a concerted effort to 'act straight'"—he uses his fingers for emphasis—"this is just me, and I just happen to probably like dick."

"We're still on probably?"

"And you're the first person I told because… honestly, because Sora trusts you and you just happened to be someone I could easily meet with," Riku admits. "You remember my Mingler profile?"

"It said you just wanted to talk," I say. Ha. I thought that was a load of bullshit not too long ago.

"Yup. I'm about to go really deep here, so bear with me. You know what my dad said when he dropped me off here? He said the next time I see him, I won't be the same. That I'd change, hopefully for the better." Riku placed his hands on his lap, peering off to the side and nodding to himself. "He said if I was the same person coming out that I was going in after just one semester, then I was doing it wrong. That I wasn't learning enough, that I was missing out or not seeing the opportunities in front of me."

"Like opportunities to tell random strangers who want to bed you that you're gay?"

Riku laughs. "Yeah! Exactly that! Among other things, of course. I don't know, maybe I'm taking what he said a little too seriously."

I drink more. "No, go on. I want to hear this."

"Should we gloss over that whole 'people want to bed you' part?"

"I'm just saying that there's this app called Tingler, and I think the people there would be over the moon if they saw your profile—"

"Very funny." Riku smiles and bites his lip (Hnnngh). "I honestly can't believe how right Sora was about you."

Uh-oh. Gotta steer this conversation again. "But seriously, tell me more about why you said you wanted to talk," I say.

"Right. I thought it'd be easier with strangers, you know? I like saying that I don't care about the opinions of other people—especially ones I don't care about—yet it occurred to me very recently that I do care. Even if I don't think I do, I obviously care enough because I haven't exactly been open about it either."

"I mean, it's you. I don't walk around telling people I'm straight when I first meet them."

"Yeah, but that's different. It's the default setting for our assumptions, you know? We don't walk around assuming everyone else around us is gay," Riku says. "Anyway, I matched with a lot of people and decided I wouldn't meet anyone. A few days back, Sora mentioned that he met someone awesome on Mingler and was planning on meeting her. These past few days, this girl was all he could talk about and had nothing but good things to say about her."

"He exaggerated."

"Maybe. So far I think he's right," Riku says with a smile. "So he's talking up this girl to be all kinds of amazing, and earlier today I met her. And then I recognized her."

"If it means anything, I recognized you too. Sure, it was way too late 'cause I should've remembered you were in one of Sora's profile pictures, but I recognized you in person."

"Ah, maybe it was fate," Riku says dramatically. "Point is, I felt like I heard enough about you that you were a level above stranger, if that makes sense. Sora said something about how easy it is to talk with you—he's right. Kinda like walking into an interview blind versus one you've prepared for, you know?"

"So has a great weight lifted from your shoulders in telling me?" I ask. I push my empty glass toward the bartender as she passes.

"I feel a little better about it, honestly." Riku falls silent for a moment. "Holy shit. We went zero to a hundred real quick. Pretty sure we were just joking around and then—damn, sorry for turning that into a moment."

"Hey, if I got bored, I would've said so. I'm glad you told me how you felt."

Want another round?" Riku asks, his drink finished as well. "Don't think you've avoided talking about yourself. We're just getting started."

Damn. Well, since he was so open about his past, I don't think it'd be so bad to share a little bit of mine. "I guess I'll take you up on that offer then."

Riku nods. "We'll have another, Shiki."

The bartender nods. "Another round coming up!"

"You're on a first name basis with the bartender?" I ask. "She probably overheard everything."

"As long as I can get my drinks here, I'll manage," Riku says with a shrug.

"Look at you. Tell one other person about who you really are and you can take on the world," I say.

The bartender places the drinks in front of us, scooping up the tip Riku laid out and seamlessly switching to the next patron. I take my drink and raise it.

"To dicks."

Riku shakes his head, chuckling. "To dicks."

* * *

Unlike Riku, I don't divulge any personal secrets nor spill my heart out. Riku's easy to talk to. He listens quietly while I talk, and fills in the gaps with a question or two to steer the conversation. Maybe it's a side effect of hanging out with Sora, who, relative to me and Riku, is the chatterbox among us.

Riku, as promised, pays for the drinks. He offers to walk me to my car, which I accept. Who wouldn't?

"This was fun," Riku says as we cross the street.

"Indeed it was. Perhaps my best date since two days ago."

Riku laughs. "Close second?"

"Very close," I say. "If only we matched before I matched with Sora. And if you didn't like dudes, I guess."

"Yeah, that's a pretty important distinction."

"I mean, sexuality isn't binary, and we all know how attractive I am."

"Sorry, Kairi. When I see a girl as beautiful as you and I still don't feel that attraction, I can stand here confidently and say that I'm as straight as a circle."

I never imagined that I'd jokingly solicit sex from a new gay friend, but I guess there's a first time for everything and I guess I shouldn't be surprised it's happening during my college years. Will it ever get better than this?

"We should do this again sometime," I say, taking his arm. He's warm. I swear boys are just radiators with legs. I've met a few ice queens in my life, but every guy feels like they've just walked out of a furnace.

"With Sora or without?"

"Yes."

Riku smirks. "He'd be so mad if he saw us right now."

"Why? Is it because of this?" I ask, lifting our linked arms.

"He wouldn't like this, but he'd be extremely jealous if he saw us so comfortable around each other. He's like that."

"Sora? Jealous?" I press my lips together. "I guess I could see that."

"He's more possessive than anything. Which reminds me…"—Riku stops abruptly at the corner as a car without its headlights on drives by—"even though you guys have this whole friends with benefits thing going on, I can tell you now that Sora wants you all to himself. He won't share until he's done with you, which really might be never."

"Ew. We're having sex, not getting married. Besides, I have no intention of looking for someone else if I don't have to. A bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush or some shit like that, right?" Is that the phrase? I could've butchered it just now. I don't get expressions sometimes. I once heard "turn a blind eye" and thought to myself, "what's the point of turning away if you wouldn't see it looking straight? It's blind, after all!" I may have missed the point.

Riku nods. "No wonder you and Sora clicked so quickly. You guys should talk about it."

"Don't need to."

"Right. Ignoring your mutual desire to… I don't know, _monopolize_ each other is also a viable route."

"We'll ride this wagon until the wheels come off," I say as we reach the lot. "That's my car."

"As both of your friends now, I feel obligated to be upfront with my position: I will not be taking sides if things get ugly."

I laugh. He'd clearly side with Sora, but I appreciate that he likes me enough to say that he'd stay neutral. "See? We go on one date and you're already in love with me."

"Now that'd really piss him off," Riku says, opening the door for me. "I'm assuming I'll see you soon—the next time I see Sora, perhaps?"

I snort. "I hope not. Unless you want to watch…"

"Don't be gross." He closes the door and smiles through the window. "I'll see you later, Kairi."

I blow him a kiss before driving off.

* * *

I wake up early the next morning and, unable to fall asleep again, get up and run. It feels good to get back to my old routine. I guess I got lost in all the excitement this past weekend.

The sun hangs just above the horizon, ready to warm the cool air that lingered overnight. I start running toward campus with no clear destination in mind. The cold air stings my chest during my first few breaths, but I lock into a state I'd become so familiar with in high school: running becomes easy, and I'm free to think as the background changes around me.

I plan a route around campus that lets me avoid the hilly areas, or at least those with the sharpest inclines. There's a few others running, some walking, but no one really acknowledges another. We're all in our own little worlds even though we're sharing the space. Once I reach a crosswalk, I untangle the earphones in my pocket and put on my favorite workout playlist.

As I run past the student union, I remember that finals are right around the corner. It's hard to believe that my first semester here is almost over. People aren't kidding when they say this time passes by in a flash. I feel like I just got here and they're ready to test whether or not I've mastered all the material I've learned in what was supposedly fifteen weeks.

Shit. I really shouldn't have skipped class this past Friday. I need to be more serious about this.

A mile turns into two, three, four. The sun's a lot higher in the sky by the time I reach my apartment complex, but it's still pretty cool out. A lot more people are leaving the complex: most in Sunday's best, and a handful in last night's "I had a lot of fun last night but I'd really like to go home, shower, and change" attire. My volume drops just for a few seconds, alerting me of a message. It's from Sora.

_It's been over 24 hours. You wouldn't happen to be free anytime soon would you?_

I reply when I'm back in my apartment. It's warmer than I expected. _That depends. You making breakfast?_

_Bitch I am breakfast. Send me your address._

I ignore the message for now so I can shower and clean up a little. Delaying also gives me time to put on some make-up, which isn't a normal part of my Sunday morning routine, but might become a regular thing if Sora sticks around. I put on just enough to look alive. When I'm confident that I look presentable, I text him back.

Sora arrives, as I expected, mere minutes after I sent him my address. I see him smiling through the peephole, but when I open the door, he tries to look serious.

"Oh I'm so sorry. Wrong apartment," he says apologetically.

"Very funny."

A wide grin spreads across his face. "Damn. I tried."

"It wasn't the least bit convincing," I say, stepping aside so he could come in. Every time I see Sora in person I'm reminded of how annoyingly attractive I find him. It almost feels like a playground crush, except we're older and there are a lot more options on the table as to how we handle ourselves. I think I hide it well, but it doesn't stop me from wondering or fantasizing what it'd be like if he knew I'd let him do anything he wanted to me.

"Dang, pretty warm in here. Is your roommate home? Namine, right?" he asks, looking around. He's wearing shorts again. Is he impervious to the cold or something?

"Yeah, she's out with her boyfriend all day," I answer. "What's for breakfast? For real this time."

"Free sandwiches from the best deli in town. I know a guy. Or at least I'm friends with the guy who knows a guy. You're welcome." He sits at the counter and slides one sandwich over to me. "You have a very clean apartment, Kairi."

"Thanks. I made sure to hide all the pictures of my boyfriend me I had hung up everywhere."

"Seriously? I'm your side chick?"

"You're my side dick," I correct, making him laugh. His eyes linger on me. "What?"

"What? I like looking at you," Sora says, fighting back a smile.

Oh please. Someone is clearly trying to get into my pants. Joke's on him though. He already has access.

"Wish I could say the same," I quip.

"Funny hearing that from the girl who said I was hotter in real life when we met up." Sora smirks and crosses his arms confidently.

Did I really say that? What a cliché. I'll cringe about that like ten years from now while doing some menial task. "And you believed it? God, you're easy."

Sora rolls his eyes. He takes off his backpack and sets the food on the table. "This one your room?" he asks, nodding toward the door behind me.

"Yup. Why?" I ask.

Sora doesn't answer. Instead, he walks up to me and gently pulls me into a kiss. I throw my arms around his neck, and he backs me up until my back's against the wall. His hands, warm enough to feel through the fabric of my pants, slide behind my thighs. He presses them up until I wrap my legs around his waist, then wraps his arms securely around my hips.

He has me riled up in mere seconds. Moments like these make me wonder how little control I actually have. It's a little terrifying to know how easily I'd give into him, but I think that's what makes it exciting. Part of me wants to find out what he'd do if he discovered how much power he had over me.

He kisses his way to a spot on my neck, something he discovered on our first night together, and lingers there. I can't help but sigh and run my fingers through his messy hair.

"Hurry up," I manage to say.

He gets my message and carries me into my room, lowering me onto the bed. I feel his fingers near my waist and lift my hips. He throws my pants aside and quickly pulls my shirt over my head. His desperation alone is enough to arouse me. Not to be outdone, I push the bottom of his shirt up to his shoulders and pull his shorts as low as possible. He does me a favor and undresses himself.

I sit up and try to pull him down with me, but he takes my hands and pins my wrists above my head. Gotta hand it to him: that was something I didn't know I wanted to happen.

"Finally," he whispers, taking the moment to look at my body.

"Condoms are in the nightstand drawer when you're done wasting time," I say. Hoping to provoke him, I buck my hips. It affects him enough that he moves his hand to a spot just below my belly button and makes sure I stay down.

"Oh, I'm wasting time? We should've been doing this last night," he says, his eyes still fixated on my waist. "So I'm going to take my time, thank you very much." Releasing his hold on my wrists, he moves down my body, kissing his way from my chest to my waist.

My breath catches in my throat. His kisses continue slowly, getting lower and lower until the anticipation just about kills me. I arch my back.

_Yes. Finally._

* * *

I wonder if it's possible to get tired of sex. Like, has anyone ever thought they were getting laid too often? Sure, people can be satisfied, but I wonder if anyone ever thinks they're getting too much or if, like me, they feel like they can either never get enough or can always go for more.

I'm not saying that I'm left unsatisfied—quite the opposite really. But you'd think that in those moments of post-sex clarity, maybe sex is a little gross. It's wet too. I mean, even the words related to it are nasty. Sweat. Saliva. Discharge. Semen. _Moist_. Doesn't that send an unsettling shiver up your spine?

And yet here I am, thinking, "How long will we have to take a break before we go at it again?"

After cleaning up, Sora brings the food he left on the counter back to bed. This is actually the first time I've had breakfast in bed all semester. Maybe I could get Sora to make me breakfast every now and then so I could eat in bed without having to get up.

"Mmm. Naked breakfast in bed," Sora says as he slips back into bed. He sits up, but pulls the cover over his waist.

"I was just thinking that," I respond. "I'm off to a good start this morning if you don't count waking up at the butt crack of dawn."

"Be honest with yourself: it's totally because I came over, isn't it?"

"Well without you I wouldn't be eating breakfast right now, so yeah, I guess that has a lot to do with it," I say, denying him the satisfaction. Kind of.

"It's pretty good, right?" Sora asks, indicating the sandwich in my hand by waving his own.

"Better than your normal breakfast sandwich. I'm a sucker for croissants though. How's yours? Same kind?"

"Yup. Second-best thing I've eaten today."

Oh come on.

"Ugh. Delivered on a silver platter. I make you seem smarter than you actually are."

"You bring out the best in me," Sora says with a laugh. He takes a huge bite of his sandwich and stares at me while he chews. After a while, he asks, "So you wanna talk about what you did last night instead of coming over to my place?"

I try to pull the sheets over my chest, but Sora keeps tugging it down. I give up, much to his enjoyment. "You mean you don't already know?"

"I do. I was just wondering if you were ever going to tell me that you went on a date with my best friend instead of visiting your friend with benefits. I'll have you know I barely survived the night."

"Please. You went years without sex and probably a few more before meeting me. One night without it isn't going to kill you."

"You underestimate yourself."

"And your flattery will get you nowhere," I say. "I don't know what he told you, but here's the gist: we matched on Mingler the day after you and I met up, we ran into each other yesterday thanks to you, and we decided to hang out and have a spontaneous heart-to-heart."

"Spontaneous heart-to-heart?" Sora repeated.

"Like two tweens in a middle school sleepover," I say with a nod.

"You going to tell me what you guys talked about?" Sora asks. He's already done with breakfast.

"Nope!" I say with my mouth full. "If Riku didn't tell you, then I won't either."

Sora sinks until he's lying down again. "That's not fair."

"Neither is telling Riku literally _everything_ that we've done so far," I shoot back. I laugh when Sora acts like he doesn't know what I'm talking about. "Yeah, I know about that. It was one of the many things Riku told me last night."

Sora groans. "Ugh, Kairi. How could I not tell someone? This is like"—Sora waves his hand at the space between us—"the biggest accomplishment of my life. I can't help it. Don't you ever feel the urge to brag about something you're proud of?"

I roll my eyes. "Not the same thing. It's my business too, and I wouldn't be bringing it up if you weren't so detailed. I mean, Riku already heard a lot of things about me before we even met."

"Didn't your roommate?" Sora turns on his side, propping his head up. "Oh wait, she didn't."

"Yeah, you pretty much told her we were sleeping with each other." I can't really blame him for that since I didn't exactly hide it well, but at least I'm not preaching to all my friends.

Sora laughs. "Yeah, I screwed that up, didn't I?"

"It's whatever. I would've told her eventually."

"See? You want to brag about it too!"

I crush the napkin in my hand and ignore Sora's nudging. Of course I want to brag about it. Hooking up with Sora's going to be one of those "back in my college days" stories I can tell for the rest of my life. I glance at Sora because he's walking two fingers up my arm. He's grinning like an idiot and I want to make out with him all over again.

"Riku told me he was gay," I say, finally getting around to answering Sora's earlier question.

Sora's hand drops. His smile flattens into a thin line, but he raises his eyebrows in approval. "That's pretty uncharacteristic of him. He's not someone who'll deny it if someone asks, but he wasn't one to tell someone without prompting either. Good for him."

I think Riku only brought it up because I mentioned that I thought he was hitting on me, but I don't tell Sora that. "Like I said, spontaneous heart-to-heart. Some serious stuff for a first impression conversation."

"So what sorts of secrets did you tell him? Or was this not a two-way street?"

I gently push Sora so that he's lying down again and climb on top of him. "That's between me and Riku. We talked about you too, naturally."

Sora inhales sharply as I run my hands over his chest. He moves his hands to my thighs and mimics me. The corners of his lips twitch. He's trying to restrain himself. "All good things, I hope?"

"That's a secret." I lean in and stop a few inches from his face. "Any more questions?"

Sora shifts under me. "I do, but you're not playing fair."

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I can't ask you later?" his breath catches in his throat as I kiss his neck.

I stop only for a moment to whisper in his ear, "Sora, you shouldn't have come over if you hadn't planned on being too busy for 'later.'"

That's all it takes. Game, set, and match.

* * *

**THE HOT GUY IS GAY. WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW?**

**Ken7700**: Oh? You want to read more? Sign, sealed, delivered 5 months later. You're welcome.

**BlissfulNightRain**: Ha. So much for a return to the site, right? Ew. Love triangles? No. Not here. Hate that stuff. Oh, and thanks for making me feel good about my writing by pointing out a specific line. I liked that one a lot too.

**kittykat1217**: dam girl u cray. But I gotta admit, you got the right idea about this. Behind the arbitrary capitalizations and lack of punctuation, you've got some incredibly insightful thoughts there, and I mean that sincerely. Ain't nothing simple about FWBs.

**Harumaki**: Glad you like Sora. As a reader of my own story, I haven't seen enough of him yet. Or maybe I've seen the best of him so far and am waiting to see if it gets better or worse. Also, how'd you know it'd be a Kairi/Riku broship? Everyone else assumed love triangle. You didn't fall for my tricksies.

**AnimAYFan101**: Should I pretend to be humble and say, "Aww shucks, it's not the best one on this site!" or should I present my feelings honestly and say, "You're goddamn right it's the best fanfiction on this website!"? It's definitely better than like 90% of the stories on here. Let's not kid ourselves.

**Painted With A Palette**: The long reviews come from readers who care. A love triangle? Wouldn't that be some basic-ass shit right there? Sorry for making Sora and Riku sexy, but how am I supposed to experience my lifelong dream of meeting a sexy bed buddy and his even sexier best friend for the occasional profound conversation? #vicariousfiction

**anon ovo**: "I don't like one night stand things but I gave it a shit" hahahaha. Slip or typo? Anyway, he really did just want to talk. Who would've thought?

**acidic wrath**: Thanks fam.

**HoPe-BriNgeR1**: I don't think I'll make it M. Do I have to? I guess I'm one "Sora inserts his penis into my vagina" away for this to become a lemon.

**mOOnlite-duskk**: ICYMI, he basically was like, "Ay girl y dont u n me meet up imma treatchu to some alcohol oh btw sexy thang i like dick so lets be homies."

**Guest**: You're welcome.

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